Bad Blood
by WiseWhiteOwl
Summary: Salty Bones was considered a 'infamous' pirate of the ship 'Ghost of Davy Jones'. The past he covered behind closed doors was built to keep his family from knowing who he was. It threatens to crumble when his daughter is caught between a war against England, Templar's, and her own father's past. Will the pieces fill the missing puzzle or will it destroy a family?
1. Salty Bones

Disclaimer: I do not own assassins creed 3.

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**Bad Blood**

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Can you imagine a free world? A world where any person is free from rule that they did not agree on? Is there such a place where they could live under their own constitution of their own ideas? Questions among questions-turning into riddles of _what-if_ scenarios that even I could not believe in where even the most possible of ideas can be _im_possible. The smartest; the intelligent of men are the bravest for standing for their ideas. They wanted to create something. They wanted their ideas to become reality when the impossible was thrown right into their face. They were seen as crazy waiting to be shunned or even hanged at the gallows. If it was not for people that wanted to protect what little they had left, we would be nothing. Our possessions, our homes, our families, our sons and daughters, our mothers and fathers; what we wanted most was what could not be taken from us… _our_ _freedom._

It all began on a ship leading to a new world. The man aboard was my father and before I can start my journey, this is his short tale of his first meeting with a man that will become my enemy and the enemy of another.

He was a young man in the year 1754. A young man that has seen much and what he has seen was not the life he wanted for himself. He wanted to start over with a new beginning and a new name in a place he did not know. No longer will he have to run from the lawmen searching for him with intent to hang him until his neck broke or he choked. For too long he has been running from port to port stealing ships with value to them, with gold and treasures for trade; for much more. He was a brave and courageous man, but to others he was a pest. It was a life he once enjoyed until he decided on his own to leave the seas to trade for land legs. For too long he wanted to get away from his name, his reputation, everything that he once stood for.

They called him _Salty Bones_.

A pirate in his own right; he has seen it all for a young life. Killing, stealing, whoring, adventure, but it all came to a halt when he was twenty-five. He wanted to live a peaceful life in the new world where he can seek new adventures. Stories traveled to his ship where his crew spoke of people with skin darker than their own. _Savages_ as one sailor called these natives. They did not live like any other _civilized_ people. Their language, the way they walked, so much caught the young pirate's attention and Salty wanted a part of it until he was asked to be part of a massacre. And it all changed.

He no longer craved the seas but it did not mean he will miss her. The mistress will always tempt him to go back and sail her. She was always a part of his life since he first stepped foot on a sail. The thrill of his first adventure when he was sixteen was something like never before. Sailing the untamed seas with sailors who enjoyed the waters more than they loved the land soon granted Salty his love for the sea. It was a month after gaining his sea legs that his sail was attacked by bandits. For the first time he killed someone and saw others die before him. With his sail burning he had no choice but to jump to the sea where he believed he would meet his death.

"Retiring from the sea? Where is your ship?" A stranger asked.

Salty stopped right on his tracks. His dark haired swayed with the sea wind blowing and the smell of the ocean was strong. Brown eyes looked to the red coats walking amongst the piers but it seemed that it was not them that were talking to him. In order to not rouse too much suspicion, Salty had to dress differently but not like the rest of the civilians. Even if he no longer wanted to be a pirate, he kept the look, but only to a minimum.

Still, it would not be surprising if any of the soldiers knew of him. He had a bounty for his head but it would have been more of a pleasure to see him hang. Though, some of the soldiers that walked the port and streets were no ordinary soldiers. These men were Templar's and on close inspection of a man who was standing by a stall of a merchant, Salty grew suspicious of the man staring at him. Salty has come across these men before when he raided a Templar ship one year ago and these men were not like any he has fought before.

These men were an opponent he took interest in and vice versa. The Templar's knew of him and they wanted him for their own use. They wanted to use him and Salty did not want that.

"She beckons for new victims. I can no longer keep her entertained for my ship will not sink." Salty said lowering his pack to the floor. "My ship is what legends state it to be." In truth Salty did not want this man to know of its location.

The man walked towards him. There was a look in his eye that sparked once he saw Salty. He had black hair tied and a large forehead with a black mustache. This man was a shady character which almost stopped the blood in the young man's veins. A famed pirate whose blood was run cold by a man he did not know did not suit to well for Salty. Both men looked each other in the eye sizing one another until the man cocked a smile.

"Aye, you must be him. The one they call Salty Bones of the ship Ghost of Davy Jones. My name is Charles Lee, in case you have been wondering."

"I have not, but I am surprised to see that a man such as you can look through my disguise but do you always greet people such as me?" Salty kept his eyes on Lee with keen eyesight. There was something dark about this Lee. Something sinister and Salty was not attracted to it. In fact he wanted to keep away from the man as far away as he could get.

"I have but only with a man whom you do not know. He made shore here just three hours ago." He said rather bluntly trying to lure him in like a hook with bait.

"Clearly you did not walk hear to the port for a day stroll. Men like you have a purpose and whatever it is I am not interested in such." Salty picked his pack from the ground and placed it over his shoulder once again. Walking past the shady character named Charles Lee the man stopped him with the palm of his hand lightly squeezing it.

"It would be wise to let me be on my way, sir. I have no business with the likes of you or your kind." Salty stated.

"…my kind? Salty, there is a high price for you but _my kind_ can use someone like you."

"I do not want to be used. Leave me be as I have stated before." Salty roughly shook off Lee's hand from him.

The port of Boston was busy with new arrivals, merchants, traders, men, women, orphans, animals, it was full of life. The young man has seen ports busy and there was never a time where he would terrify the people with his ship locals near and far called _Ghost of Davy Jones_. It was a name that has stuck with the ship for it was nothing like a ghost ship, but with it darken color many believe that the fog of the sea covers it. Salty always smiled or grinned at the stories people would make about his ship and he. But now, he was standing beside a man he did not like.

"You will seek for us. Someone of your skills can be used for our cause."

Salty walked past Lee keeping caution in the busy streets. Looking over his shoulder Lee was gone lost in the crowds. He had a sinking feeling that this would not be the first visit from the man as he would want to recruit him. Disgust is what he felt but he walked on through the streets on the search for a horse. He did not want to stay within Boston or anywhere near it. With Charles Lee within the vicinity, Salty could not risk running into him or stirring trouble in a place he wanted to begin his new life.

My father had to go by a new name, had to go by a new past, everything that he did as a pirate would have to be pushed aside in the dark shadows never to be unlocked. What he did not know however was that when it came to a new land there came people who were not like that of Charles Lee. Some were not shady, vile, disgusting people; there were people who were civilized trying to live their life as peaceful as can be.

That was until he met my mother.


	2. The Ballad of Salty Bones

**Bad Blood**

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He began his life in a new world under a new name. Adjusting to this new life was hard for him. Salty was not use to living as a _land lover_. Few times the sea calls to him from afar. She beckons for his return, for his ship to sail her like he has done for years. The mistress tempts him each night with the winds blowing the smell of the salty sea towards him. Each time he would go to the harbor and watch the passing of the ships and each time he wanted to go back to old habits. Each time he had to remind himself about the massacre.

The innocent lives lost to his foolish needs and desire for what was aboard and for whom it was for. The sea, she must understand that he no longer can handle that life. The guilt that pains him like a sharp knife to his heart slashes ever so deeply. It would not heal, it just could not. She had to understand that it was time to move on from the past to live for the future; whatever it may be for the former pirate.

Those on the land did not have love for pirates, vagabonds, thieves (in some cases the whores) anyone who was the scum of the Earth. In their eyes those who had to make a living someway-that was not to their standards-were not of society. It was a burden that after many years he has grown accustomed to and ignored. The look, the stares, the sneers, the spit, whenever he walked through the streets somehow they knew he was not one of them. Somehow they knew but they did not say anything for Salty harmed no man, woman, nor child. He kept his peace as they kept theirs. No one talked to him or would even go near him unless he bought what was needed for his journey out of Boston.

Four months passed by in his stay. Charles Lee would contact him setting a meeting at an inn. Each time Salty would not attend. Each time the young former pirate focused on a new job, a new chance at making money without having to steal or kill for it. Of all occupation he would never have thought that he would be a carpenter. He had talent which he never knew he had. Surprised by his own use of his hands that were once used to slice open necks were now making fine furniture, repairing buildings, and much more.

He no longer went by the name given to him by the sea and traded it for a land name. Going by the name of _Eloy_ it was a strange transition from 'Salty Bones' to that of Eloy. It did not come easily to his tongue for he was Spaniard by blood and his language was soon becoming rusty. Names such as that from his native home were almost forgotten that he could not remember what the lands were like. It has been so long that being accustomed to the sea makes one forget what home truly was. He only knew that the sea was his home and much has changed since then.

'_I wonder how my family fairs. I still wonder if they think of me. Not as the pirate but as their son. God has forsaken me with such a burden to my heart. To my own soul; oh, how it hurts._'

Salty looked away from the sea harbor and walked along the pathways. Boston was no longer a safe haven for him. He had to leave. He had to get away from the prying eyes. Charles Lee had eyes that stalked him. Every pathway, every step, it seemed whatever Salty did one of Lee's men would be on him like a starving dog. But it seemed that Lee was not the man to be cautious of. There was someone who was of higher authority. He was someone who was more of a threat than Lee.

He met a man who did not look too friendly, not that Lee was a friendly character himself. He had eyes that were colder than his own, a tone that was low and threatening but had a simple charm to it if one was willing to step aside his own pride. He looked to be like any other English gentleman.

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"_I am beginning to wonder if this is considered stalking or threatening." Salty said._

_Salty had wondered into an alleyway away from any who would want to stick their nose in their business. Being in Boston now for a week, he has been followed by a man in the shadows. It was becoming a game now and neither party wanted to _neither_ attack nor give themselves away without giving themselves away._

_Salty ignored the growing thoughts in his mind and focused on this man. The man walked slowly with hands behind his back. He had broad shoulders, long dark hair tied back behind his head, and his clothing was something that he has not seen before. He kept his eyes on Salty with no facial expression but that of a calm manner. His boots crunched the rocks below and his cape blew in the wind._

"_We are not stalking or threatening you. I do not see it as the way you do. We do not threaten unless there is someone who gets in our way. It is simple really. Join our cause…" This ticked off Salty quickly like a fuse to a rifle._

"_I hear _'join our cause' _one more time and you will no longer have a tongue to speak." Salty stated standing tall. "What is it that you truly want from me? I hear that my skills as a pirate will be of use, but I do not understand. You are not pirates nor do you know our (_their_) code."_

_The man paused just inches from him. He was not surprised nor did he show a sign of flinching. The man sighed and looked to the sky wondering to himself what was truly the point of trying to convince this man. This was not going to be easy that much was true. If Charles Lee had failed to get this man to join than there would have to be drastic measures that needed to be taken. He was not a man that would easily give in nor give up. If Salty did not want to join than maybe he was not who any of the Templars thought him to be._

'Not much of a pirate_.'_

"_Threatening me will not keep us away from seeking you. Our cause is far greater than anything you could ever dream of. A man that has a pirate instinct is something we could use. You are still young and thinking that this is what you want, it will be lost. I am scouting for men that will be of use to me and my order. Do not think that I do not know. You are the one that has attacked one of my ships."_

"_You talk as if you know me. How many men have you killed for this cause that I do not know of? Pirates are not what they speak of in legend. That life that I had I no longer want." Salty was growing aggravated while this man pestered him further and further and yet he was not giving away his own secrets. These Templar men were shrouded in mystery but they were also dangerous._

_Putting trust in someone such as him would only bring Salty closer to the gallows. It was hard enough to get away from the pirate life and with this man edging him on there was only one option that was unavoidable. Temptation was a harsh mistress like that of the sea. The more she beckons, the more she will bring you forwards and goes in for the kill._

"_Casualties are a constant in any cause whether it be in war or something simple as what is to happen. You see the unrest, you see the outcry of people; you are not blind to it. I am only trying to restore order in an unbalanced world."_

"_You do not need me and I do not care for your cause. If you truly want to put order in this world, I give you the best of luck for it. I have told those of your group to leave me be and they have yet to step back. If you must kill me, by any God that hears me, I will not go without a fight. Leave me to live, do not seek for me for I will only give the same answer. _No_."_

_There was a small twinkle in the English man's eyes and a crooked smile on his lips. There was no pulling in this man and a hard-headed one at that. Men such as Salty would be of more use but with stubbornness running in his veins it was the way of the pirate. No matter how much Salty wanted to cover his tracks, his past, his pirate ways it will always be with him whether he be on land or on sea._

"_Then we will not pester you any further than we already have. I will not give up on any man with skills such as yours. Killing you will only be a waste. Do not take this as a warning but as a promise: I will not kill you but if you threaten any of us we will not hesitate. I cannot convince you but in time I see you will come to join us."_

_Salty and the man kept silent letting the sea air blow. The sounds of the sea birds were distant and the barking of dogs echoed. Both men did not move for a long while._

"_What is your name?"_

_The English man did not want to answer but he was curious as to why. Why would Salty care? Why would this man ask? Will they seek each other or simply run into one another in the future? No one was certain but if the man was right, Salty will seek out the Templars. If he seeks the Templars to kill or not it is up for the man to decide on his own._

"_My name is Haytham Kenway."_

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Salty seemed to be encountering Templar's in hiding but it was not on purpose. They sought him out trying to get the man to be a part of their_circle_. Haytham seemed to leave him be yet, Salty had a sickening feeling grow. The man, this English man, he always had a close eye on the former pirate. He did not threaten nor even attempted to talk to him again, but somehow Haytham knew exactly what Salty was going to do.

Each time he was not interested but it wasn't till a year later that they stopped seeking him. Haytham has not been lurking in the shadows. Something has caught the man's attention leaving Salty to finally feel a bit of fresh air. Within that year he has traveled out of Boston under his new name without anyone noticing. It was not like anyone cared for a stranger that was living among them for a year. He made no close friends and lived alone. It was time to move forwards to the unknown where he no longer lived in the past. The sea will always remind him of that day and the sea will always call to him to come home.

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**1756: New York**

My father was still adjusting to living life on the land and has yet to make peace with himself. The guilt followed looming in the distance, but he did not weigh it down upon him. Life was still worth living even though no one knew his secret. He owned his own business but for two years he noticed some unrest within the towns. He kept away from trouble that most of the citizens of New York began to respect him as one of their own.

Red coats were the law under the king and when they were tampered with from anyone who did not want to follow either they would go missing in the night never to be heard from or meet their fate in the gallows. Most were threatened which put people back in their place. Whatever was happening, he did not look into it. His new life was busy with crafting.

It was his new love but the sea will always come first as his love. It was his new life but the sea will always be part of his soul. No matter what it was the sea will be linked to him. It kept his mind from wondering to all of the things that haunted him. His past was well hidden and his appearance changed within the two years. He cut his long hair and was beginning to grow a beard. He kept himself well groomed which did not go unnoticed by the women that would pass by. His pirate appeal vanished and yet, the appeal for the ocean was ever so clear.

'_Maybe one day I will raise my flag of the Ghost of Davy Jones.'_

It was a warm day in New York. The streets were crowded once more and Salty was finishing the last touches on a chair for a customer. Focused on his craft he heard something crash on the outside. Life outside was pretty nosey but when he heard the splinters of what sounded like a crate, Salty could also hear a small shriek come from a woman.

Looking away from the chair, Salty got himself up and walked towards the window. On the outside there was a carriage with dropped goods on the ground and a woman picking up the items. No one seemed to notice or walked passed her. Not wanting to be rude he took a step outside and walked over towards the woman.

"Need help miss?" He asked politely.

The woman looked up from the crate of what looked to be apples and inside the carriage was crates filled with fruits and vegetables in large or small crates. It did not take long for Salty to realize that this woman was traveling from one place to another. His eyes looked to hers where she had a smile on her face. Curly black hair, hazel and almond shaped eyes, skin tanned as if she came from the deserts, and Salty wondered where she was from. Could she be a native or could she have come from a different realm? She did not speak to him and it seemed that she did not speak the English language but his thoughts changed when he heard her speak.

"I do not need help, but I give my thanks." She said with an accent that was thick and heavy. She seemed to be in such a hurry.

She had no time to be in small conversations when she had to make schedule for her long trip back to the manor. She should have made New York her first stop but since Boston was close and had what she needed, she would regret it. Using the stars for navigation and trying to keep away from bandit country, not to mention keeping track of red coat activity, this young woman was going to be in a hurry back. This place was not her native home but she wanted a change in scenery.

'_Maybe I should have had a second convoy to make it easier._' She mentally kicked herself.

"Do you always travel alone?"

Coming to reality, she has forgotten that the man was standing in front of her.

"If you are asking to be my guard I can handle myself."

Salty chuckled lightly amused by this woman whom he just met. She was in such a hurry to travel and it did not offend him that she wanted to get away. It was as if she was moving too fast for his eyes but Salty found this to be more amusing now. This woman was something. She was babbling and ranting about being late and such. Still, he was curious of her origin.

"I can see that you can with the rifle hiding. It is out of my own curiosity for I do not see women travel alone knowing that places such as the frontier can be a danger. You cannot be from here for the food looks as if you will be traveling for some time. May I ask where it is that you are going?" Salty was blunt but he wanted to understand where this woman was going. Hell, he did not even ask for her name nor did she ask for his.

"You are observant for a carpenter. I only travel to places for food, supplies, not for the frontier but for an old friend. I bring him what he needs."

"Then I shall not keep you from your business. If you need any help my name is Eloy and I work at the building behind me. Do not be afraid to ask for help if you need it." And with that being said he turned his back with a coy smile but not without bowing a bit to the woman in respect. Walking away back to his shop the woman smiled but quickly noticed that she did not give '_Eloy_' her name.

"My name is Adolfa!" She exclaimed making Salty turn back to her.

It did not come to mind to my father about this woman. He did not think that she would have any importance in his life besides being just another person whom he tried to help. Neither of them have any idea of what the future will hold for them until they meet once more in an unlikely place and something will rise within them both. It will be something that we all come to share. Something that we all come to know as time passes, but before we could skip ahead in my father's tale we must first keep at a steady pace for love takes it time.

Where there is light darkness does not fall behind for eyes keep close watch suspecting my father to be the man they have been watching for two years hidden within the shadows. Soon they will approach him. Soon, my father will know what secrets and what lies inside of the shadows. A world that had been hidden away for so long until it was rediscovered.

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**Shout out's:**

**BinaryBit: **Thank you for your review. There will be more of Salty's past, or now with the name change, Eloy in later to future chapters. I did not want to have to start the first chapter explaining everything, than it would just ruin the story as a whole if I did that. No one wants to read a story were everything is given away in one chapter than it just beats the purpose of a story.

**Aquarius-Otter: **Glad your attention was caught by my lure. Hopefully you will like where this story will go.

**Fairy Skull****:**I like to be different when it comes to stories. I am hopeful that it does not become one of those generic stories about characters falling in love or adding a new character for the hell of it. I am adding my own mix to things since I do love the franchise as a whole and the characters are so easy to love/hate, kind of hard not to mess with them for my own fun.

**Tytue:** Sorry for the cliffhanger. Usually I do not do such a thing in stories I write, but I found it optional for some oddly strange reason. It kind of has its own feel to it and I kind of suspected it that this story will somehow grab people's attention.

Thank you for the lovely reviews.


	3. Seed of the sea Dog

**Bad Blood**

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**1758: New York**

Two years have passed. The summer months were coming as the air was getting hotter. Seasons of change was ever constant and Salty wondered if the land mother changed more than that of the sea. It was then that something else was changing. His need to find peace was there guiding him through the roughest of waters. My father was (_is_) a stubborn man trying to listen to what he is being told, but he needs to listen to his mind and his heart if he wanted the peace he needed.

_Adolfa._

When the night reveals the stars in the sky, he longs for its navigation. Since men sailed the seas for the first time they were lost until _he_decided to look to the skies once more. It was there that the heavens spoke to them again and off the sailors went. My father has always been guided by stars and the constellations since he first sailed. No matter whether one was a merchant, sailor, or pirate, they used the same system of the stars. The heavens is where men look to for answers, they wanted understanding. Salty wanted to understand where it was that he stood.

Even with the change of identity, the Templars were still about watching his every move. They were cautious of their own actions and one slip of the foot all will crumble. Salty has been grateful for the distance and the peace that was given to him. He only wondered for how long it will be until they decide to come after him again- _if_- they still wanted him. It might not be Lee or Haytham that was after him. After many years, time has changed. _He _might still be out there looking. _He _waits in the shadows somewhere in a Boston tavern waiting for his chance to join in on the Templars once more. Slowly, he has hidden away deep inside far from coming up from the dark crevasses of the shadows.

He could hear the sounds of the waves as it crashed on the harbor. For the first time he felt that loneliness. It was a gruesome feeling because in reality nobody wants to be alone. You could be the hardiest of men hiding away your emotions yet, you do not want that lonesome feeling. Dark eyes kept their stare on the stars with the wind blowing against him. Salty kept hidden within the shadows for no one was allowed to be at the docks unless they were sailors or the red coats who lazily complained about the lack of sleep. These men were not soldiers in his eyes. Even if he were not from the same shores as these men Salty could not help but feel pity.

Orphans ran about teasing the red coats, stealing their pouches of money or whatever hung loosely on their belt loop. It seemed no matter how far one may walk there were always a starving child running in the streets or a dog looking for scraps in a town under British control. Taxes were becoming higher each year and Salty was beginning to feel the strain of little money. Temptation of stealing once again was making his fingers twitched even at the thought.

"The seas are never rested just like your mind."

She came up from behind him, covered in a sash on her shoulders. He looked to her only seeing her silhouette and the aspects of color as she sat beside him staring at the harbor before them. The smell of the sea air was fresh for both of them. In the distance sounds of music from the tavern played joyfully. All of his worries seemed to have vanished within that instant. The temptation of twitching fingers stopped.

"This is where you come to think or be reminded of your days at sail." Adolfa was amused when she saw his lips smile. "I will never understand your love for the sea. I am sure not many women would understand what it is about it that draws the men."

"The seas never rest. She moves to the beating of her own drum, never to the drum of man. I watch her trying to hear the sound of the beat." He spoke looking back to the harbor. "She is wild; untamed. It is because of the danger is what draws men."

"Women who have been tamed by men are no longer in value?"

Salty smirked but changed the subject at hand.

"Surely you do not follow me to hear of my old musings of what was and what will never be. I no longer sail the wild seas. I will leave it to men who have nothing of value."

Salty was a gentle man talking of the weather, laughing at small talk, enjoying life as a normal man, but when one spoke of the sea he becomes hidden. He is reminded of his past life as a pirate. Talking in riddles as if the sea were truly alive but could not speak for the sea only has the crashing of the waves and the screech of the sea birds for a voice. It is a voice which men cannot understand. Salty has denied each time that he no longer wants to sail the oceans but how could one not want to?

She pulls him, calling to him, speaking to him saying '_do not trend on these rough waters. They do not need to know who you once were. Come home dear Salty, come home to the seas that only love you._' Her words were so daunting that Salty stayed away from the harbor most nights. Each time he missed going home.

'_Home? This is my new home._'

"You always speak in riddles of the sea. Is it true from what they say about sailors? Do men like you truly value the sea than land women?"

She knew at one point in time, Salty was in his words _a sailor_. Sailing the seas with spices for trade, defending what was for pay but never truly told her of what he did in his past or who he really was. Afraid was he that if she found out, Adolfa would run or worse go after the bounty on his head. It made him wonder for curiosity was in her nature. She would find a way of knowing and she was not one to cower. Adolfa has not asked him once if he still had any living relatives. It has been many years and not a day goes by that he still wonders about it himself. Maybe one day he would sail the seas once more only for his family in Spain.

His heart was warm at the thought but Salty did not want to risk a chance of going back to his old ways. Never has a woman-not a whore- seemed so attached. It was not a foreign feeling and Salty knew what it was: attraction if not more. If he had no living relatives to go home to Spain too, maybe, just maybe Adolfa will be the only family that he needs. It was the matter of her wanting to be for she (Adolfa) had no husband.

"Do you come to listen to my old fishing tales?" There was humor in his voice.

"I do not need to hear of your adventures for there is something that you have to know." She sounded distracted. She sounded scared. Salty has never heard her voice grow so distant. Adolfa was a strong woman which attracted him to her. Was she sick? Was she going to go away for a long while? Why was she sounding like this if not too long ago she was teasing and playing with him?

He did not turn away from the harbor when he heard her shuffle about. In the darkness she moved her hands to his grabbing hold firmly. Not knowing what she was doing he turned towards her as she led their hands onto her belly. Eyes grew wide knowing what she wanted to tell him, but it seemed that the words were not forming in her mind. Was she afraid of telling him?

Something such as this startled Salty but there was a part of him that was saying _this is the peace that you need._ She was pregnant with his child. She was pregnant with _me_. Growing strong and healthy in her belly with our future uncertain they focused on the present.

'_I am going to be a father.'_

It was strange yet, it fit. He was going to be a father to which sex? In truth, he wanted the child to be a boy. He could pass down his knowledge of the sea and give him all that the first born male had rights too. What he did not want was for his child to end up growing into adult life like him. If only he knew that inside the child was going to be a she.

"…How long?" He finally spoke.

"One month. Eloy, this is your child."

She took her hands off of his but he kept them on her belly. Underneath the fabric she was not yet showing. He knew that as the man and father, he had to provide no matter the struggle. Being taken in by pirates may have changed him as a boy to a man, but with a child maybe this was a blessing- a blessing from the darkness of his mind. This was unexpected but it was also a joy. Adolfa did not know how to react but when she felt pulled into Salty's arms she felt overwhelmed with much pride knowing that this man was someone she wanted to start a family with. All of her fears of rejection and humiliation were no longer in her mind.

"You know I will provide."

"I know Eloy. I was afraid that you will not want me or this child. We are not married…"

"Then we will be married. I want to provide for us. I want to provide for _our_ family."

He kissed her on the side of the head holding her firmly in his arms. The transition of many years at sea to living life on land, finding a woman and getting her pregnant with his seed, Salty was going to nurture his child. _His _own flesh and blood which was growing inside of her was all that he could ask for. Adolfa relaxed with a smile upon her face. They were going to marry which will be a happy occasion for her family, even though they have met the man before, they were wary of him.

The night and the music from the tavern filled the silence for there was nothing more to say. All thought of a wedding would be on their way. Adolfa was more than just a woman to him. That night he shared his bed with her as he has always done since they began their… _relationship_? She had shelter when she came into New York. She knew the streets, but it was always Salty that she would go too for the night. His affection for her grew each time they would share his bed. He did not need words to tell her how much he adored her but it was his actions, his deeds, and his child.

Even with change, there was always something that was looming in the darkness. It may not be seen for it is covered and shrouded, soon whatever it was that kept hidden was watching; waiting.

* * *

They say that the sea is vast and unexplored. Many who dare venture into it will go one-hundred men strong and come home with only twenty. Those not lucky enough will come home changed. _Sea madness_ is what they called it. It is a sickness where sailors who are lost by a storm, abandoned by their captain when attacked by vagabonds or pirates, begin to see things that should not be there. Most would go mad-some will keep their mentality but only by land. He has seen it before on his sails across the seas. At some point he was one of the sailors but he learned that in order to venture in the open waters one must not succumb to her voice.

Like the sirens of the ancient world, the sea was his calling. She was his sweet angelic voice that was always tempting him. Tempting to lead him to new adventures, to new lands that have been unmolested by men, but all was not what it seemed. Stories will be passed through generations about those before them and their many journeys. What they would not know was about the harsh environment and the madness sailing the sea brings.

They become sick, some men filled with disease that quickly kill or slowly in misery while others starve. Even the toughest of men go to their knees when they know that the fight is over. If one did not know how the seas worked then may God save their souls or let Davy Jones bring them to the bottom of the sea. He awaits souls that succumb to the madness never to let them go. They drown until the water fills their lungs with the salty water and with panic those that are weak die quickly while the strong keep fighting until the bitter end.

All could not compare to what he has seen or what he has done. Peace was never so easy even when he was away from his love. The sea, she still beckons to him. She calls him in the whispers of the wind and each day he walks to the harbor of New York, wondering to himself if he _should go to the ocean. Sail her and leave it all behind._ The shadows are not so kind to him. When he thinks such thoughts as days go by the image of the woman returns to his mind. He was like the ocean: open with still waters waiting to be explored by a passing ship or stormy with waves crashing against the sands. Even when the sea covers the land, the tide recedes back exposing the land below.

Being out at sea for a certain amount of time, tales of monsters would form. There were many monsters that men have created or imagined. The kraken, sea snake, mermaids… I have heard of such tales by my own father and I asked him, '_Did you ever see them?_' He would reply to me, '_I know of a monster._'

It would not be until many years later that this monster my father knows will be revealed. This being reminds me of an entity because spirits of the dead could be dangerous to the living and it is misunderstood. My father will not tell me his name for it has left a bad taste on his tongue but he has told me that I should be weary of a man with a gray dead eye. Why? It only seems that he wants nothing to do with him or fear that whatever it was that has happened in the past would stalk him.

'_No matter what you will do, you will always have blood on your hands._'


	4. Daughter of Salty Bones

**Bad Blood**

* * *

I was born in the early hours of the morning. My mother told me that it was a cold morning and the fire needed another log to keep burning. Childbearing is dangerous for any woman and their infants. The pain, the bleeding, I never knew that a woman could go through so much with what little could be provided to soothe the pain. Any man could not know the pain of what their wives had to go through. The only words of comfort were from the midwife-Olivia- that was placed under my mother's care, telling her to keep pushing. Olivia was an older woman of forty but with experience of bearing children from other families she has worked for.

During the months of my mother's pregnancy Olivia made sure she was in proper care. Father worked longer hours crafting new furniture for the wealthy and rich. He promised to provide for his family and kept his word like any man would.

My father was outside pacing back and forth as he heard his wife scream in the process of birth. He was nervous but most of all scared of what could happen. Fear of losing both his child and wife, fear of losing his whole family, he has never been through such an ordeal like this. Being out in the sea for so long was nothing now. The sea, she may be unrest-ed but even she understands the pain of a mother. The sea's waves rise rocking the sails to the harbor as if an approaching storm was to set on land. It was strange and still strange when I hear of a cold morning of the unrest-ed sea of my birth. Salty lived for his wife as he once did for the sea. He lived for me (_his _child) that came out of my mother's womb still with a faint pulse.

My mother told me that she was scared that I was not alive until Olivia cleaned me with warm water that was placed by her side. I began to move, she has said to me. I moved and cried as loudly as my little lungs could. In the early morning on a cold day I cried loudly not knowing that on the other side of the door my father smiled; feeling warmth that he was going to raise a child that will grow up in a world that wanted something valuable.

…_My Freedom._

'_My child will grow strong._'

No one is ever out of danger as a newborn. The first few months were the hardest for my family and any newborn would be lucky to survive. Feeding, keeping me well, trying to keep the diseases at bay, there were many threats that could have killed me but I was one of the lucky ones to survive. Olivia always checked me for any signs of sickness or deforms in my body which there were none. As the months passed with the changing of the seasons, I was growing.

Years would go by where one moment it would be warm and the next few months the winter will come bringing snow to cover the ground. It seemed strange to think that when I looked out to the harbor where the sea crashed her waves on the other side in a forest that not many men travel, an eagle flew to the tops of the trees it calls _home_. I wonder if _he _knew that somehow our paths will cross in the most unlikely place. Until when we meet, he is nothing more than a stranger- a phantom- in the forest whose fate will be determined by those who came before.

I am Seliah Marin. Daughter of the infamous pirate: Salty Bones.

* * *

**1765: New York**

Growing up my mother always told me that I had my father's eyes because there were certain expressions I made that he would make. If it was not my expressions, it was my way of thinking. It was certainly forbidden for me to think of the sea. Somehow, I felt it to be in my blood to go to the harbor like my father and stare out at the birds that fly or the ships that passed. Father always seemed to be more at peace when we were at the harbor and talked to me about his days at sea. My imagination always went wild with thoughts of what the sea harbored. Then, only then, was it just tales my father told me. Inside ol' Salty wanted nothing more than to go home.

What I did not know was that my own father feared for me. It was in his blood that I will not follow a path that he once followed. I did not know that _they _were still out there. _They _still wanted him. _They _have yet to know that I held a strong resemblance to that of Salty Bones. What _they_did not know was that my father lived under a different name: Eloy Marin married to Adolfa Sanz-Marin. Still, I had barely any resemblance to my mother other than her long black hair, hazel colored eyes and tanned skin. My _female features, _as she put it, will come later in my life when I have matured but as of now I had to escape with the orphans that I have made friends with from the British guards.

"Do not let them escape!"

"Who says we are escaping?!" I shouted.

We ran down deserted alleyways tearing down clothes from the lines of the day's laundry trying to use them to trip the guards who were coming to close for comfort or at least use them for distraction. Hearing the sounds of their footsteps and the clanging of their weapons against them, I knew these back alleyways well along with my orphan friends who were scattered about dealing with other guards who got out of formation. If these men were smart enough they would not use their rifles to shoot at us. The guards may have known alleyways but we liked to call ourselves _experts_ in our means of escape. There was a big smile on my face as my muscles in my legs were burning like a fire, but the fun of it kept me going.

'_If I keep this up the guards are going to kill me._' I thought.

"If my friends do not kill me first and I want to live to see another day." I told myself with a sigh.

I slide under a wooden fence where on the other side lays a rope longer than I that connected to another just a few yards away where my friend did the same. As the guards came closer to us he gave the signal to pull upon the ropes and once the guards came within reach we pulled with all our might and down came the guards. Toppling on top of each other as _we_ kids laughed and ran once more through open doors of houses becoming separated as the crowds moved about.

"Get off me and go after those damn children!"

It was not an everyday occurrence where we would be on the run from British loyalist, but when we had that chance we took it. The orphans would pester them for hours on end, but it takes one guard to begin a chase. Out of aggravation and annoyance was a source of our own entertainment. These children were made homeless from death of the parents to the loss of their homes under the British control. I felt sorry for them at first and tried to understand what they were going through for I was not like them. They knew this at first, ignoring me as I tried to make friends with them until I had to prove myself worthy for their friendship.

"Tom Boy, you have the second half of those guards!"

…and I had a nickname.

My parents did not know of my friendship with orphans and I knew they would keep me away from them, but these children were my only friends. My parents did not know where it was that I would go off too after my chores were done for the day. They believed me to be off just being a child wanting to have fun, but my mother always scolded me when I would come home dirty. I had that sense for adventure at my age and like others which my father would approve of. They worried for my safety. I understood that. They treated me as their own after I proved myself to them. They began showing me ways of escape, pick-pocketing and eavesdropping. It was all basic survival on the streets of New York.

British control was made seen with their flags swaying above buildings constantly reminding us that red coats were under the king's order and this was his land. Above it all, there were some that did not want that control. They wanted to break free from it for the taxes were too high for some. The red coats were also taking advantage of their privileges thinking that they were above us. It was of no wonder my father did not like the _lobster backs_: so he and others called them.

The streets were not so safe. It was a constant fight for children and adults alike trying to survive on what little they can. No one seemed to care for the dirty, the hard working, the poor, but the rich and wealthy of people went about their business not wanting to meddle with affairs. I was not poor, my father provided and my mother was helping with the shop. We were in the middle class which made no difference in anyone's eyes. It made no difference in my own eyes. I was too young to understand what business was, yet I knew more of the streets.

The sun was going to set within another two hours and it would be that time for me to head home for the day. I had to find my friends wherever they may be to say goodbye and give them what little coins I had in my pockets from chores for them to get food. These people given up on them but they were my only friends I might as well give back for what they have taught me over the years.

Looking back and forth to see if any guards that were chasing us were out of my sight and found new guards it was clear. Running around corners, alleyways, over fences, I was in open streets filled with people. What I did not expect was to run into a grown man which made me fall to the ground with a loud thud. On-lookers on the street passed us by without so much as a second look and once my vision was clear and the pain in my face stopped, I looked up to apologize and noticed that there was a second man next to him.

"I apologize, sirs. I did not see where I was running too."

"A child should not be playing out in the open streets for they could be trampled by a horse or a carriage." The man I bumped into helped me to my feet.

Dusting myself off I looked to him and noticed something that frightened me. I was frozen under the man's intense stare. His one eye was dead and gray but it did not look as if it was to me. His gray eye looks as if it were still alive looking intently at me, observing me underneath his stare. It occurred to me that I felt so small and insignificant that I was not aware that I was backing away slowly.

The gray eyed man kept his stare on me with a sneer of a smile upon his scarred lips. This man I knew was dangerous compared to his companion who held a calm composure; arms were behind his back with his hat dipped low. Gray eye was the opposite but he might have been more calculating, cunning even if he were alone. I have heard from my father about how monsters who were calm were not so by nature.

'_Could this be?'_

"You are frightening the poor child." The second man said. He had an English accent as the gray eyed man had what seemed like a Spanish accent; kind of like my father.

'_Frightening? I am too scared to move my own legs. This man's eye is staring at me._'

"I do not mean to scare you child. You see, I have a blind eye but I tend to keep it closed when I walk about." Gray eye said.

"It's okay sir. I have to find my friends." I quickly stated, turning back and running as fast and far away from these men.

* * *

"What a strange child would you say Haytham?" Gray eye said looking to Haytham with a passive look.

Haytham did not look to his companion as he watched the child become lost in the crowd. There was something strange about the child but it was only speculation of what he thought. Gray eye on the other hand was thinking differently about the matter. He was a cold man who never seemed to be fazed by anything unless it has caught his attention. Whatever caught his good eye, Gray eye would be on it like a predator to its prey.

"What of the child?" He asked.

"There is something of the child that my memory seems to not want to rest." Gray eye stated closing one eye lid.

"Have you seen the child before?" Haytham asked with a bit of curiosity.

"I have not seen that child but I recognize the resemblance. That face and those expressions…"

This was getting Haytham's attention and every bit of information helps. Even if both men's causes were different. Somehow, they both seemed to have something in common dealing with whom the father of the child was.

"Someone you know?"

"Tell me, master Haytham… Is ol' Salty Bones alive and well?"

* * *

I've made it home tired and scared. I am sure my friends will not think of me as a coward, but that man with the gray eye was strange. In the morning I will go find my friends but for now I wanted to be home away from those men. All thought of them had to be placed in the back of my mind. They would not harm me because I made sure that I do not run into them again or had them follow me home. Whoever they were did not look like the type of men I wanted to bother with. These men did not wear the uniform of the British soldiers, yet the one that did not have the gray eye talked with the accent that is most common.

Thoughts pushed aside for now I could not let it bother me. I was a strong girl who played pranks on the soldiers. I had friends that were orphans. My father was once a sailor. There was nothing that I should be afraid of-_except for the man with the gray _eye. Walking through the halls of the burning candles, curtains pulled back to let in the lights in certain rooms and the smell of wood was fresh throughout our home. It was a nice smell. It reminds me of the forests where men venture out into the open. One day I will want to roam those mountains, cross rivers, explore places I could not have dreamed of. Until that time comes I was only surprised to see that my parents have yet to show themselves.

Quietly I walked until I began to hear voices coming from my father's work room. I was not allowed to be in there or my mother, it was his privacy and place of work. We respected that from my father but for some reason I could hear the voices of both parents talking.

"How long have you kept this from me?" My mother asked.

"Adolfa… I could not tell you. If you knew about me…" Then my father began to speak but mother interrupted him quickly before he could explain.

"…Eloy-or if that is your name- You have lied to me for years. We have a daughter and you kept this secret? If you were afraid that I would have let you hanged in the gallows without a second thought… You could have told me. I love you." She was sounding as if her heart was being torn open from her chest. I could not walk any further for my legs were shaking from running home. Leaning against the wall of my home, breathing in the air in my lungs I did not want to keep hearing what was happening but my curiosity took a better hold of me.

"Adolfa, I was afraid that you would have told the soldiers. They are after me. If they found out that I still live, I do not want to have to place you or Seliah in any danger. This has been my life for so long. The sea, she still calls to me, but you have to understand…"

"…If Seliah finds out about this; no I cannot let that happen. We both know that she is always out on the streets doing whatever it is that she does. When she becomes a young woman, those soldiers will treat her no different than any man. I will not let her find out and you will have to stop talking to her about the sea. She acts like you and talks as if the sea is calling to her."

"I was afraid that she would. It is in her blood and it is my own doing for not keeping her away from the harbor. My past has been hidden away for so long in the back of my mind that I have forgotten about other realistic things. My attire, my journal, everything is hidden where I hope she will not find."

Casting my eyes to the wooden floor I could no longer listen. Turning away I walked back through the candle lit hall. My perception on father has not changed. Whatever it was that he wanted to hide from mother and I; I could not question. I had my father's love for the sea and nothing could truly change that. For whatever reason that possessed me I walked towards a set of stairs leading up to our bedrooms. Yet, I did not take one step up for something strange caught my eye that I have not seen before.

There was a painting that my mother has purchased long ago before the arrival of me, hanging on the side of the steps. It was a painting of a ship that was beautifully made by an artist that I have not heard of. The ship did not look like any ship I have seen before and it looked as if it were sailing through a storm. Then I could see the outline of a door that I have not seen before. I never knew that there was something hidden there and I pass every other day.

_Why haven't I ever noticed?_ It was a thought that made me question. Placing my hands on the wall I could feel cool air coming from the small cracks and I began to push with all of my strength. The door opened slightly and in I walked. It was a small room with a chest sitting in front of me.

They say when you want something to be hidden away from all eyes you have to place it in a place where no one would dare look or even notice. What I was going to find out was who my father truly was and why he was hiding all of this from us. What I would not know was that a few days later after my discovery of the chest I would find a journal that held my father's thoughts.

_I go by the name of Salty Bones…_

Those were the first lines of my father's journal. Reading further and deeper into the journal I discover things I did not know about my father. How he was once a sailor and how he became a pirate was like reading a fictional book but this was all too real. I never questioned my father nor did I tell him about the journal he wanted to keep hidden. Until one day he came inside of the small room… It was there that it all became unraveled and one that very day he talked to me and I too him. From that day, he taught me all he knew about true survival and how to keep myself hidden in plain sight.

_I am the daughter of a pirate._


	5. Caught in the Crossfire

**Bad Blood**

* * *

A bird knows when it needs to fly when it outgrows its nest. It knows it can no longer be supported by its parents and has to learn to fly if it wants to eat. The bird has to grow on its own for the sake of survival or else it will die if it does not hunt or scavenge for food. It is the law of nature. If one were to disturbed that law of nature it will crumble. Nature is strong yet, it is also fragile. The young bird does not know what lies beyond the edge of the forest. There, strange creatures that are known as man live in clusters and beyond them… the sea.

The parent urges its young to the edge to spread their wings for the first time. The feeling of the cool morning winds blowing through its wings made it feel as if _Ehecatl _was controlling the winds parent knows what is best for its young having raised it since it was just an egg. Instinct is what urged them to keep the egg warm until it hatched into a helpless hungry thing. Parents raise their young to survive and this was just an act of nature. It was all pure instinct as the young bird looked out into the open wilderness it calls home.

Some will have to the urge to take a leap forward plunging into the ground below where the predators await for a free meal. This bird however was among the few to spread open its beautiful wings and run towards the edge. Its parents watch in anticipation as their young falls rapidly from its nest. The bird flaps its wings wildly trying to figure out the fundamentals of flying.

Everything must learn on its own at first to survive its first few years in the open. I was not learning to fly for man cannot fly. Like the bird I was learning to advance my reading, which not many people know how to unless you were wealthy and had proper education. Some were luckier than others. I had to guess that I was just lucky… in some cases. I saw myself as this bird when it was learning to fly. Once it figured out its mistakes, the bird tries and tries again to get the simple movements until it begins to soar.

Learning to read was as much of a challenge like that of writing. The few friends I have made have taught me to read and my father reluctantly offered to teach me to write. I knew father was an intelligent man and it showed when he taught me my first lesson in reading his journal. So very few lines within it could I read but it was all a mystery when the words jumbled together. When I began to read each day and write, I saw little of my friends. I felt as if I was a loner. Like the bird who was beginning to fly. One day I knew that the bird will find its mate. They say certain types mate for life. I wonder if that is true. I wonder if it is true for man.

Thinking about it I was still young. There were many things, ideas, thoughts that I needed to recognize. I could not move away from it. On this night in New York I calmed my way through streets that were alive in the sunlight.

* * *

The rooftops near the harbor brought me joy when I wanted to look out at the sea. Red coats patrolled down below and above me, but when there was a place that had no red coats within sight I would sit in the shadows. Using what I learned from my orphan friends and improved by father, I watched each patrol: where they were going, when the next set would patrol next, so on and so on. A few times some red coats on the rooftops would yell for me to get down or threaten to shoot me. I learned to sneak around them or use the chimneys for cover and a bird's eye view. Still, I had much to learn before I can learn proper combat skills.

I closed my eyes feeling at peace with the waves crashing against the harbor in a silent song that only the seamen and I could hear. The sea wind was blowing in the smell that I have become so used too. Only than could I realize that I was becoming like father each day since I found out who he really was: _Salty Bones_. In truth, it did not bother mother or me. _Yes_, we (_mother and I_) were mad at him for keeping such a secret hidden; mother even madder at that. Doubt conjured her mind for three days wondering if their marriage was even real or if father truly loved her. Those three days were the hardest for my family but mother forgave father. We were once more a family hidden away with a secret that could send not only father but mother and I to the gallows.

People walked below me, enjoying what today had to offer. Today was the second week in my training. Father told me I was growing in experience but there were still steps before I could learn to use my skills. It was strange at first for father to address me as not his daughter, but as a partner. I knew he wanted a son but that did not bother me as much as it did mother. She always grew worried for my safety, but she knew that I was strong like her. Even with my resemblance to father I had much of my mother inside of me. Her understanding, her courage, part of her adventurous spirit was a part of me.

Within those two weeks I have learned much about my father but there were still questions that I needed answers too. His journals only held his thoughts and some secrets that even I could not imagine. One entry was about a ship called the _Ghost of Davy Jones_ which later in his life he became captain of. How he became the captain of the infamous pirate ship, father ripped out not wanting anyone to know. He seemed ashamed that I could read bits and pieces of his past life yet, at the same time he wanted me to know about my own blood. His former life was not written in the journal only after he was '_saved_' did he began to write.

Gray eye was mentioned in the journal more than once. I have found out that he was once the captain of the ship who took father under his guidance after proving himself in many tough fights with the crew and men whom were called '_Templar's_'. Captain Gray eye was feared and when ships sailed the seas they were always weary of the pirates until…

The page was ripped out after that. From there father did not call Captain Gray eye captain any longer. He wrote that Gray eye was cast off away from his very crew and ship to be seen no longer. Father was not sure if his former captain was even alive. He was alive for I saw him with my own eyes. From there, reading further was challenging.

His native tongue from Spain was difficult to translate. Father once told me that it was best for me to know his language when I discovered his journal. It has been so long since he spoken his true tongue. Mother even found it intriguing to hear father speak in another language. She too spoke her native language, I for one spoke father's language. Learning as much as I could I began to decipher, trying to understand one's own language. I knew it was going to take me months-even years- to speak the native language. For someone growing up in a middle class, the knowledge that was to be handed down to me gave me a direction. It gave me thought of what was to come.

* * *

"_What I hold within my hands is something that I am not sure what it is. I know it is a weapon, but this is a weapon I have seen before." He knelt to my side with a box in his hands. It was underneath my father's pirate attire and maps that he himself has stolen from ships of his past. This box in his hands was something I have never seen before. It caught my eye quickly that I almost made a mistake to reach out. Holding back my eagerness I kept quiet._

"_I have encountered it so few times when I was boarding ships for treasure as a young man. Never would I have imagined this to be on a man. They call it the hidden blade…"_

_He opened the old dusty box. Inside I had to prevent myself from gasping out loud for I have never seen a weapon so beautiful such as the one inside the box. The mechanics were so unfamiliar to me. The way it looked, the color, everything about this hidden blade seemed so forbidden. Father held back a smile as he closed the box not wanting me to touch it since the blade itself was broken in two and badly damaged._

_It might have seen many battles in its day. The story of who held it, of who fought it, I wanted to understand how and why such a thing was even made in the first place. I was certain father wanted to know as well for in his journal he even asked himself the same question. After he took the blade from the man its origin remained unsolved._

"_It's beautiful." I said._

"_It truly is Seliah. This weapon is deadly that even I had trouble getting out of its grip. I wish I knew who could fix it but it shall be yours once you have completed all that I will teach you. A gift…" Looking to my father with a gleam in my eye, he looked different in my eyes. He no longer looked like the carpenter that I knew him as, but I could see the pirate. The sea flowed through his veins like it did mine. I had the sea in my heart. "…a gift that is priceless."_

* * *

British soldiers patrolled my part of town as a custom to keeping an eye on us. It was everyday life for us all. Shopkeepers, merchants, blacksmiths, anyone who owned a building were used to seeing the red coats walk about. Normal is what it was in our life. When I was not with my orphan friends disguising myself as a boy and playing pranks on the soldiers, I would go about my daily life trying to ignore that urge to trip one in horse manure. Such thoughts made me laugh when I had it flowing through my mind.

I thought today was going to be another day of training until I stopped half-way from home and took a sharp turn on the corner. Never would I have imagined seeing what I saw. In front of my own home father was being dragged out by two soldiers while the people stood around and did nothing. I knew they did not want to take part in whatever was happening. They would rather look a blind eye and listen to the British. I have been told countless times by my orphan friends that the British think they could do whatever they please for they were under _their _king's law.

"Eloy, yer pay is overdue." I heard the leader of the squad say.

I knew that voice. It had to be Lennon, the leader of the squad of patrolling soldiers.

"I will have your pay within the end of the month." Father almost hissed but kept his calm.

"I thought business was booming fer yer family. Are ya keeping half 'f it?"

"I know the law. Business is not so well for _your _king demands the finest of lumber for his ships leaving me to deal with cheap lumber which breaks easily when I try to make furniture for us common folk." This did not seem to satisfy Lennon. The two soldiers holding on to my father held him even tighter in their grip as their leader punched father in his gut causing him to grunt.

Quickly I looked away not wanting to see father get hit once more. Mother was not there to witness it, but I was sure she was inside wanting to help him as much as I did. These red coats would pay for this if they found out who my father really was. He was a pirate. A pirate, who raided British ships, stole their loot, stole their possessions, he even killed because he knew he could. _No_! I could not rely on father's reputation. He was still a wanted man.

Lennon was still yelling at father and father in return did not yell but he responded himself. What could I do with this scenario going through my mind? I did not have my orphaned friends here to help me. If I ran to find them somewhere in the New York streets than maybe we could distract the red coats away from father. The only problem was figuring out how long it could take. With drastic measures I placed my fingers in my mouth to blow a loud whistle. This distraction always seemed to work to get the red coats' attention.

"Hmmm? Yer friends Eloy?" Lennon asked with a sneer.

Grabbing small rocks that were of good throwing size, I stepped out from the corner where the red coats could see me. Being outnumbered by these men with rifles I had to show my courage even though father looked to me with eyes telling me to run. This was something that I could not run away from.

"Leave my father be you lobster backs!" I shouted.

"I see yer bastard child wants to save dear ol' father. Children should not meddle with affairs of those older than them."

Lennon walked ever so closely towards me with a look of anger in his eyes. Father struggled against his captors as I saw mother yelling at me through the window of our home. The red coats held on to father as the rest made sure mother was inside. I kept strong even though I was shaking. The rocks in my hands wanted to slip from my sweaty grasp. Swallowing my spit I walked towards Lennon who did not seemed so phased by my small domineer.

"Leave my father be as I said." My voice was cracking. I was very much afraid.

"And why would I listen to a child? Yer father owes money to yer king."

"_…my _king? I have no king. Let my father go or else these rocks will be thrown." He laughed as if I was clearly trying to joke. Quickly without so much of any hesitation, Lennon tightened his grip to his rifle and smacked me to the ground with the butt of his rifle. Father and mother yelled out my name. Echoing through the small neighborhood the people around us began to duck away from any sign of danger. Father cursed in Spanish as the throbbing pain in my head almost cost me my life. I have been hit with rifles before but never has the force been so brutal.

Lennon satisfied saw nothing more in me and turned himself around to the rest of his guard.

"One month is what I will give you Eloy. If I do not see the money, expect yer dear ol' home to burn." With that statement they let father go.

"_Seliah_?" Father spoke in Spanish.

The guards no longer cared for us only for their pay. I could hear them walk satisfied with themselves as the people backed away from their authority. _They _did nothing to help. I felt sick to my stomach. I was tired of this oppression we were living in. Only than I could do nothing to stop it for I was just a kid with no knowledge of fighting. Rocks? Still, it was the only defense I had. I stood up to the red coats.

"_Seliah?_"

"_Yes father?_" I spoke to him. Lying still on the ground I could feel the warmth of my own blood from the cut I have gotten from the butt of the rifle. Father knelt beside me and I could hear mother running to us.

"_You did well. You have my blood and your mother's. It was foolish for you to have stood up to an opponent you could not even beat."_

I looked to father when mother knelt beside me. There were tears in her eyes yet I could not even look to her.

"_Teach me father! Teach me to fight…"_

* * *

**1770: Boston**

So the years passed by as I grew up into a young adolescent that held resemblance to father: Salty Bones. It seemed that I was trained as a pirate ready to sail the seas to look for an adventure; knowing well that I could not do such a thing. Father taught me well in the skills of combat but my writing skills were not so well. I still struggled to do so in any case. Reading, speaking in his tongue was however part of me now. Spanish was now my second language. In truth I did like having to speak to my father that reminded him of _home_. He did not have to write in his journal to tell me about Spain. The life he once had growing up on the other side of the world. His mother, his father, his two younger sister; I wished I knew them. Instead I walked through the chilly streets of Boston, long ways from home with father by my side.

Mother was home in New York looking after the shop while we were away. In Boston long ways from home: a place that I was not familiar with. There was a strange ominous feeling that was growing in the pit of my stomach. Father could sense the tension building in the air. We were here to see a blacksmith my father trusted all so well. He knew this man for many years even when he first lived here after he was no longer a pirate. We have searched the area for almost three days asking locals if they knew him or if they have seen him for the past couple of years. The answers were always the same with 'I do not know him' and 'he has not been here in years.' Father did not explain to me why we were searching for this blacksmith except that he needed this man to fix the broken blade.

Father has been uneasy since we arrived in Boston. It has been many years, I know, much has changed since then. There was a reason for my father's silence on our travel. Whether this was the last of my training, I was not sure. He told me to keep an open eye on the guards only that it seemed that most of the guards were gone. The few days we have been in this area there were patrolling guards yet, today it seemed different.

"There is a crowd about. They are angry." I overheard a man telling one of the bakers.

"They best not be rowdy. Them guards have been on edge for some time."

I looked towards father who was overhearing the same conversation. Arms crossed over his chest with back against one of the buildings, he seemed to be resting with eyes focused on something on the ground. I was casually next to him keeping eyes low staring at the feet of the two men talking. It was sometime before they ended of speaking of today's meal with their families. Both father and I grew bored of this not getting much from the men.

"What is going on?" I asked as we started walking to the sound of a growing crowd.

"We shall find out what the fuss may be over."

We kept some distance away from the crowds. The cold chilly air was blowing against my exposed face as I looked over the angered townspeople throwing up their arms shouting and screaming at the red coats. I noticed one of the higher ranking red coats on the top of steps shouting out to the angered crowd.

"This is not going to end well." I heard father say.

"The citizens are unarmed. If they fire upon the crowd…"

My words were going through my father. He seemed so focused on one of the men in particular. Turning my gaze away from the crowds I noticed a man. _Him_?!

"There is a face I have not seen in years."

Looking to father with a confused look, he recognized the man too.

"Who, father?"

"Haytham." There was a wild like stare in my father, one of which I have never seen before. His fingers twitched with irritation when I realized that the man I saw long ago next to Gray eye was Haytham Kenway- the very man who approached father trying to get him to join the Templars.

"We cannot be seen if something were to go wrong."

Casting my eyes off of Haytham I noticed something above. I did not directly look up to see a figure being attacked by a boy… a native? I knew well enough what the native people looked like and I was certain that this was a native boy. _Now why would he kill that man?_ I was interrupted by a loud gun shot.

"Damn." Father stated dropping down low to his knee.

Before I could speak a word the soldiers began to fire upon the crowd of defenseless citizens. They screamed, ran like roaches trying to find cover from the hail of bullets. Some of them fell dead or wounded. I was horrid by what I saw. Quickly looking back to the rooftop where the boy was, father stood up once more noticing my gaze. Furrowing his brow for a better look at the native boy there seemed to be a gleam in his eye. Father looked away from the boy to that of Haytham who stood by the building with arms behind his back.

Whatever was going through my father's mind was thrown out the window. Three days searching for his blacksmith friend was now a secondary mission. The main mission has changed drastically the moment he made haste through the crowd dodging bullets that zoomed past him. His target now was to grab hold of Haytham's attention.

"Go after the boy. He may know something."

All was in disarray when I could no longer see father through the crowds. Soldiers kept firing upon the citizens when I began to run. Sounds of the bullets going through flesh, the screams coming from the woman, the groans of dead men, I have never seen such death before. I was not so used to this scene playing before me. Father has always told me that I will see people being treated as if they were nothing more than dogs. This was something all on its own for I have never had that chance to kill a living being. I only hoped that today I did not have to go through it.

Making haste through alleyways-I have been through only once in the three days being within Boston- the native boy was running with soldiers trailing far behind him. Pulling the black scarf to cover much of my face I dashed off towards his direction hoping that I could distract the guards or at least bump into the native boy and lead him to safety. With the cold air being my worst enemy I ran through open doors trying not to lose the boy.

It has been a good five minutes with people looking scared letting me through. They knew quickly what has happened. Word sure does spread fast. With my mind not paying much attention to my surroundings something hard hit me knocking the very breath out of me. Holding on to the heavy something (in this case somebody) rolling in the snow covered street. The person was heavy with their elbow in my side.

"He went this way!"

"Get off me." I said.

Looking up to the person on me I noticed it to be the native boy. For one: I found him. Two: the guards chasing him were not too far behind. My luck was truly changing in this town of Boston. I only hoped father was not in so much trouble as me.

* * *

Merry Christmas to all! Here is your gift another chapter! :D If the next chapter does not come out anytime soon, I hope ya'll have a happy new year as well. We survived 2012 and here comes 2013 meaning that the end of the world has not happened. Be honest people, you were excited about the whole 2012 thing because I was. I did not laugh in the peoples face telling them they were wrong. It was another day for me. WORK! Happy holidays!


	6. Disarray in Boston

**Bad Blood**

* * *

Chaos was growing like a flame in an open fire. The citizens of those who witnessed the death of their own scattered about. Dazed, confused, the cool weather itself made the situation worse than it already was. There was nothing calm about what was witnessed. People lay dead or dying as the red coats halted their fire upon the once rowdy crowd. There was no feeling as gloom was casting its shady shadow among Boston. Citizens were scared not knowing when the next attack might be if there was to be one. Among the scared were also the brave citizens seeking this opportunity for a revolt. They did not fight against the British for their act of freedom-for their independence-was only the beginning.

All around, word would spread sparking the flame of war.

Hearing the screams of women echoed in his mind. He remembered the smell of burning flesh that roasted in house fires, the shrill of children as they were being slaughtered before their mothers and fathers. The thought alone made him sick to the very core. It was as if he were going back to the massacre of years past where he was young thinking of only himself and the treasure that was hidden. Gun fire, people running, screaming, it all seemed too much; too real. When that first shot was fired he had to move fast. When he saw Haytham, all memory of why he was in Boston was no longer there.

The ghost of memories past faded away into the shadows in his mind. If only he could go back to the time to change it. _If only- if only-_ even if he could there was nothing more that he could do about it. There was enough blood on his hands that he could smell it dripping to the ground.

"The sea dog never forgets what he was trained; a secluded area trapping his prey-smart for a former pirate."

The alleyway was dark, deserted, with the cool breeze silently blowing dust and dirt into the air. Mixture of snow danced through the halls. Both men looked towards each other at a standstill. Waiting for either to make a move but both men's eyes were locked hard. It's been years and this was no happy reunion.

"That is a term I have not heard in many years. I no longer am a _sea dog_ nor go by my cursed name. Of course, I have had peace these past years until I saw you." Salty stated. It has been far too long since he last saw the Templar. Looking the same as years before but older and still as dangerous even if the former pirate were to fight him, Salty knew that he would lose. Time has taken its toll on the men. Even if the Templar was still active, there was something wrong with his side. Salty could see it immediately. _If it was time that caused them to age, Haytham had a handicap._ Even with the training it was still not going to be enough-for the Templars fought a different way than that of the English soldier's.

"No one ever escapes their name, even a former pirate. I would not have had recognized you if it were not for the symbol of your flag around your neck." Haytham pointed to an exposed part of Salty's neck where a necklace glittered in the low light. My father placed his hand on the old jewel placing it quickly back into his shirt. "I know you did not _accidentally _run into me. I thought you wanted nothing to do with the _likes_ of my order. Something has changed over the years." There was mockery in the Englishman's voice, if not a sadistic smile. Haytham was trying to lure in Salty with it. The Templar could not forget the symbol that bore on the necklace. Salty changed in appearance since they last met years ago, but the symbol of the _Ghost of Davy Jones_ was not so easily forgotten.

'_After all these years, you claim to no longer hold any ties to your former pirate life. Yet, here you are with that necklace around your neck_.'

Salty did not make a flinch or any movement other than the rise of his chest. Breathing in the cool air Salty had to play this smart. One false move was all it took before a blade would puncture the veins in his neck. Years may have passed-for Haytham was older and so was Salty- but would that truly affect them as he first thought?

"It just happens that I was around to see you and those soldiers about when they fired upon unarmed civilians. You know as well (as I) that something about this unrest will lead too. But that is something of another matter that I will not discuss. Some years ago a child ran into a man I thought long dead. Where is he?" Salty spoke with much distaste in the matter.

Hyatham raised a brow knowing exactly what it was Salty knew. It was not the massacre that has happened just moments before. This was something else entirely and it was showing in the man who wanted peace in his life. Fate has a funny way of showing itself. Haytham found this humorous, yet the Templar had important matters to attend to that dealt with something that has been growing for years. Salty was just going to get in the way in order to get what he wanted after so long. The plan itself was jumping ahead.

Years ago the pirate who had a dead eye saw the resemblance in the child that ran into him. Gray eye-was his name if memory was correct. Somehow Salty found out about him being alive after so long, but Haytham was not going to easily speak.

"I am afraid that I do not know of whom you speak of. I have been away for a few years on other accords and I have been back in the Americas for some time. Since then I have been attending to my crops and other matters."

Both men were not stupid to each other's game. Haytham was smarter by far, with ability as a Templar yet Salty was-in his own way- better at finding places and using his surroundings to use. The Templar was not going to talk so easily. Haytham would never let anything slip. Salty knew he could not outsmart the man which made the former pirate feel defeated.

"I do not care for your business of your matters, they mean nothing to me. You know who I talk of and _you_ know where he is." The tension was building rising higher. Haytham wanted to smirk at the former pirate for Salty did not know what he himself was getting into. If he wanted to know where the man was, he had to look for him. Haytham could not care for the nature of pirates unless they were working for the Templars.

"Persistent as I remember you, Salty. I do not know where _he_ is for it has been many years since then. The pirates are becoming nothing more than a dying breed." Haytham placed his arms behind his back taking a cautious step. Salty knew that the Templar was not in for a full attack, yet he did not let his own guard down. Salty took his own steps forwards, circling around Haytham with eyes burning into him.

"So you have been around the likes of pirate scum." Salty mocked.

"Scum that you once were, sailing the seas that you once called home. However, he has disappeared from our sights like you have until now. All put aside, _she _looks like you."

Salty tensed knowing that Haytham found out about me. Body language was enough to give away the former pirate. _Damn._ Quickly with ease Salty made corrections to his stance. Haytham saw this chance as a weakness proving ol' Gray eye right on the child that they have seen years before. He did not see it than until Salty made that face.

"She grew up, I no longer see myself in her." He said. It was not the whole truth but it was not a complete lie either.

"Maybe so, but I have no quarrel with you no longer. I no longer wish to have you join our cause since you may as well been tainted. Your former captain-_mentor_- has vanished from what I hear. As long as you do not get in my way I have no reason to kill you where you stand like I should have long ago."

"State it true, Haytham. Whatever it is that you are doing I do not wish to care. Even if I was not tainted I do not dream to be a Templar bastard. My life has changed for the better if you will. If you however, find _him_ tell him that we shall meet again. No doubt that he still acts upon revenge for what I have done long ago."

* * *

The growing flame was being fed while the sleeping giant has yet to be phased by this incident. They knew those that were planning wanting their chance to fight. Remaining British guards that were chasing the native boy were getting closer to us. The moment they saw him bump into me I had to act fast and save this boy from getting killed. Father was alright, I only hoped. I knew he could take of himself but I could not help but worry for him. He chased after that man that I have seen so long ago. For what reason- I did not know. Highly doubt that father would tell me the reason. However, I had to get myself and this boy up from the ground.

Rolling the native boy off of me, his elbow was no longer putting pain in my side. A rush of relief ran through my veins when I breathed in the cool fresh air. Sometimes I wanted to forget that I have spent the last couple of years training under my father. The knowledge he has given me, the knowledge my orphan friends have given me. _I missed them dearly_. _Have I abandoned them_? Those thoughts have to be placed aside when we both heard the sound of the guard's boots crunching against the ground.

"Over there!" One of the soldiers shouted.

'_These men can get annoying_.' My thoughts were annoyed.

"We have to get out of their way of sight. If we do not, expect to run until we are in the hills." I said looking towards the boy. "In this case you may not so much trouble with that."

"Can I trust you?" He spoke cautiously.

I got myself to my feet holding out my hand for him to grab, but he declined it giving me a stern look. I knew this boy could not trust me because I was just a stranger that he bumped into. Was it by sheer chance or was it just accidental? The boy's stern look turned to confusion quickly. I had no time to deal with this and I knew for certain that he had other _business_ to attend too. He knew something about what the massacre on those innocent people was. _Did he truly?_ Willing to help this boy out for the information that I needed, I would risk hiding him until the guards settled themselves along with the town. We would sort out this trusting issue later when we did not have the guards chasing us.

"If you choose to trust me or not than do so. I know certain alleyways that we could use to escape these guards."

He kept that stern look on me. He was thinking over my words. We had no time for this and I was not going to have to wait until the guards came. Without a second thought I roughly grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him to run by my side. Surprised at first that he was following close behind me once I let him go for I thought he was going to head off in another direction but something changed in the boy's mind. Maybe he was only curious of me for helping him. Not knowing what the boy was thinking I took the lead in front of him.

The soldiers were catching up fast and using my own knowledge of the alleyways we made it through sharp turns. Both of us were ripping off laundry from the clotheslines, dogs were barking giving us away or at least wanted to play, but we kept running and I was getting tired of these games. My lungs were burning from the cold air. Muscles in my legs were growing exhausted to the point I was slowing down. The boy could see it but he did not say a word. Tensions were still high in the town until I found a cart of hay within sight.

'_That could work_.'

Quickly I made one last effort to run. With the hay just a few inches away I jumped forwards head first with the native boy not too far behind. Landing inside holding out my arms in front of me and the native boy landed by my side; I heard him as he grunted. Struggling to sit up without trying to give away our position we waited for a certain amount of time. Our breathing was caught in our throats. I was certain that our hearts were still racing because mine was. The soldiers may have seen us or they may have lost us completely. Whichever it was the boy and I kept our ears open and our eyes could see bits of the red coats uniforms walking through the street looking.

"Where did he go?"

"Scout around the area. He could not have gotten far."

I quickly placed my hand to my chest. Underneath the fabric of my shirt the necklace father has given to me as a present was cool against my hot skin. Praying now was all of a miracle, but we needed this good fortune. If one of the soldiers were to poke their bayonet in the hay our position would be blown. I knew that the soldiers would look in every knock and cranny for any perpetrator that got away. They were relentless people and _they _knew it. The native boy was low ready for an attack if we were caught though I could not help but notice that he would glance back at me. He certainly was curious of me as I was of him. Noticing that he had a weapon within sight, my small dagger was nothing compared to his tomahawk.

"He has escaped the area. Go about to every printer shop to put wanted signs and to every paper boy. The citizens will turn him up if they find 'im."

We waited another few minutes until we could no longer hear the soldiers within ear shot. Both of us got out of the hay with steady footsteps and cautious eyes on the streets, we were alone now. The sun was soon to set within another hour or so. The itchy feeling of hay scratched against my skin making me shake to get the strands out of my hair and clothes. The scarf that was around my mouth fell; my long black hair was disheveled from the tie. I must have lost it inside of hay. _Damn._ My disguise may already been found out. Letting out a steady breath the boy looked to me. We were engrossed in a sudden silence.

"You are a girl." He said rather awkwardly.

"So it may seem to be. I do not have to wear a dress to show all that I am a girl. Do you know your way around Boston?" Quickly changing the subject at hand, I could see that the native boy was not so used to being around females. Shifting his gaze back and forth trying not to look or even act so awkward with me.

"You did not answer my question…"

"This place is unfamiliar to me. I have just come into Boston." He stated turning away from me. The grip on his weapon was tight as if he was waiting to be attacked by the red coats or me if I decided to turn on him. I also noticed that he had a bow and arrow. He was armed more than I. This boy was not used to being around girls that may have not been from his tribe and it seemed that he was not used to these streets. He was alert but not scared. Whatever it was that he was thinking in his head I had no other choice but to help him as best that I could.

"Maybe I should help you, but with too many red coats on alert going about will be tricky and with the sun setting, it may be of use to us."

* * *

The sun set in Boston with snow falling gracefully from the sky. We walked in silence as I had my scarf once more over my mouth to keep the bitter cold at bay. I kept my hair inside of a hat that I have _borrowed _from a very drunken soldier. The native boy looked to me but I said nothing in the matter. The disguise I had always known still applied to me and every now and then taking glances to one another; me and the boy never made much conversation other than observation through the streets, keeping weary of red coats who eyed us.

I learned the native boy's name- Connor. He has told me his real name, but I had trouble pronouncing it and failed more than once. So Connor it was that he was going to go by. _It kind of suited him_. With the exchange of names it went back to being silent. He did not seem like much of a talker than again neither was I on certain circumstances. The two of us were not used to being in each other's space.

I never believed in rumors of the native people being so much as _savage_. Father has told me that the natives only wanted to live on their lands in peace. With settlers roaming deeper and deeper into their lands, they do what is necessary for their way of life. It also made me wonder what intentions it was that Connor had. _Why _was he here in Boston? _Why _did he kill that man on the roof? _Why?_

Paper boys shouted to passer buyers holding out newspapers hoping to get a cent. Connor walked past one of the boy's, yet he kept an open ear to their shouting. My attention was on what was being said about the day's events. They called it the '_Boston Massacre_'. My heart ached for those who were killed today yet, with ache came anger. Firing upon unarmed people was cowardice in my eyes. The red coats do not know that the sounds of war were being made. _War_? It is only a rumor being made through paper in black and white.

Something caught Connor's attention making me turn to him walking towards a man that was nailing something to a tree. Closely I looked to the piece of paper that was being nailed. It was nothing more than a wanted poster. They were after Connor. _Public enemy number one, eh? _I thought to myself. I stood by Connor's side watching intently from a few feet away when a sudden chill ran up my spine. Our gaze averted as a shadow came across our view, walking up to us slowly. Weary I kept myself still making sure that the small dagger I had as a weapon was within range.

"You're Achilles' boy, Connor, was it? I saw what happened at the Town House. A fine mess that."

'_So Connor is not alone?_'

My fingers inched away from my dagger once the man looked to me with furrowed brows. If this man saw what has happened, I did not see him among the crowd. Maybe I was not looking intently enough as father has taught me.

"I do not believe that you were mentioned as another that I needed to see." He said to me.

'_I was not expecting to run into either of you._' My gaze shifted from the man to Connor.

"Who are you?"

As if he was caught off guard, there was a charming small smile placed upon the man's lips. It was rather rude of him to walk up to two young adults without proper introduction of who he was and why he was in their presence. In all aspects the man was only expecting to run into the young native boy, but when he noticed an unwanted secondary companion, he felt kind of clueless to the situation at hand. _What did this stranger know? Who was __he__?_

"Samuel Adams at your service…" Mister Adams acknowledged sticking out his hand in a polite fashion. I was not so sure if Connor simply ignored it or was not aware that it was a handshake. Whichever it was, Mister Adams seemed all too eager keeping me on edge.

"Achilles asked me to get you out of Boston." Mister Adams pulled away his hand.

"Explain." Connor was not going to cut around corners. With the whole English guard after him, the native boy was not going to trust just about anyone. Me- I was only a mere accident- getting myself caught in his way while I was in Boston on other matters. I never truly believed in 'things happening for a reason' yet father seemed to scold me about such a_ccidents_. Now, I am sure that I was going to believe in such things.

"The whole city of Boston is looking for you…" All was interrupted once more.

"Oye! Oye! A criminal stalk's the streets- wanted in connection with the massacre at the Town House! Citizens are advised to call guards if they see him! Ten pounds to whoever brings this madman to justice!"

Cautiously I walked in front of Mister Adams and Connor, looking to the older man for some reassurance that he could lead not only Connor to safety but to me as well. I was somewhat glad that I was not placed on the wanted poster. I was certain the soldier's saw him run into me, but they must have seen nothing more of it. Connor was their target that they were after I was just happened to have been at the wrong place and the right time.

"What am I supposed to do?" Connor asked.

There was a smirk placed on Mister Adams lips. Walking past me both Connor and I gave each other a confused look. With a shrug of my shoulder's I nodded my head towards the older man's directions.

"I have placed myself in situations that threaten my very existence, but I have not come across something like this." I spoke. I knew that there was something deeper but I have yet to know what it was. Connor may know or he may not know yet seems a bit confused(_?)_ to this situation, but has a firm grip on it. It has made me think in my own situation. _What was I getting myself into_? _Will this affect me_? _What about my family: mother and father_?

I will act upon faith rather than act upon my own basic instinct. Curious by nature I shrug my shoulders motioning Connor to go towards Mister Adams. If anyone knew more about the happenings may rest within the mind of this man whom we just met.

"You can take down these posters for a start." Without much of a thought he tore down the poster with spectators looking at us thinking what Mister Adams to be insane. There was some notion of recognition when they glanced to Connor raising my alarm in case one was to quickly go to guards.

"Do not look to suspicious stranger. If you want to help Connor, than feel obliged to do so. The more allies we come across, the better the cause." Mister Adams spoke to me.

"It is so much not the guards that worry me." I spoke.

There was a surprised look on the man's face. Either he knew that I was not a boy or he may have thought I was a mute. It did not matter not at the moment, I was going to help Connor with the wanted posters and there was nothing anyone could do to stop me. Whatever _cause_ it was that Mister Adams spoke of I will have to wait on it. Helping Connor with these posters I may have a chance to find father. He may shed some light on the matter.

"Return to me when you have removed the others."

* * *

Taking down the wanted posters was much of a chore. Connor and I went our separate ways and met back with Mister Adams who has introduced us to a man named Cyrus. With guards doing their own investigations, Cyrus was more so bribed to get people attention away from Connor. I on the other hand introduced myself to Mister Adams who was surprised to see that I was a girl. It came to an embarrassment for him but I told him that no one else is to know which he obliged to. Either I was a very soft spoken feminine man or I was mute most of the time. My actions spoke louder than words but they have yet to see it.

Mister Adams did not expect me to be thrown into this and in truth neither did I. He did not reject the idea of me helping in what possible way(_?_) but regardless of my sex, the more help there was the better I suppose is what he wanted.

I have yet to find father who was still out in the streets of Boston. If only I knew what I was getting involved in father would pull me away from it. What I did not know was that he was not far from me, lurking in the shadows waiting for the right time to pull me away.


	7. Symphony of the Dogs

**Bad Blood**

* * *

The flickering of the candle on the nightstand danced with his movements. The sun has set just over the horizon with the snow falling landing on the window sill. He was not so much in a hurry when he placed the quill in the ink bottle on the desk. Beside it there lay his journal. It has been years since he last wrote in it. Certain pages were ripped out knowing that what was within it would only bring about hurt, lost, and betrayal. Today was the day that he was going to place the ripped pages back in their place. He kept them always close never letting anyone knew where he hid them. It was always placed in the deepest pockets of his travel pack. Inside the journal were new entries, one of which contained much more information.

He was calm with an impassive face trying not to flinch at his old journal. The paper that was within his hand was folded neatly and as he stood up from the chair he walked towards the second bed. Placing the note inside of a pack filled with clothes and other travel needs, his mind was filled with regret and his heart was once more aching. In the other hand was the journal.

Showing such emotion was said to some '_Salty has killed every emotion that makes us man._' Sailor tales were not always so true. Salty has not killed off every emotion. He was not like others nor would he dream to be. He was a man with a family. He was a man that provided granted that times were growing rougher. He knew; he knew for a fact that it was only a matter of time before their paths would cross. Thought to be long dead, Davy Jones himself did not want _ol_' Gray eye's soul. Even the wicked of men cannot be held in the grip of death himself.

'_I thought that I could live out the rest of my days without worry. Why tempt me mistress? Why tempt me with this pain each time my old life comes to light?_'

Salty could never run away from this. He could not run away from his enemies who mean to do harm to him or _if _by chance his family. It was all but true to know-to hear it for the second time- that Gray eye was alive. _Where_(?) that was something nobody seemed to know. Haytham could be hiding that information, but Templar's would never speak. All memory of his former captain bore deeply, clutching at him like a sea snake. His fangs digging deeper in his fragile skin letting the poison slowly and painfully kill him from the inside. Gray eye was a sea snake that may have looked harmless, but he was cold and calculating. He would watch with his good eye not letting his pray figure out what he was thinking until he struck quickly.

His mind was already made up and there was no looking back. He had to find Gray eye before he found _us_. Salty needed answers to how he survived (_?_), how the Templar's found him (_?_) and if he was working under their control? Salty was not so sure about it all yet all was just speculating. With little rest, a quick wash he was ready to leave. Placing his bag over his shoulder the room felt cold with the candle going low. His boots were heavy against the wooden floor when he was heading towards the door. Taking a glance to my side of the room where two beds were side by side, my bag was still in its place waiting for me to return to it.

My father opened the door to a busy tavern with people talking amongst themselves drinking their fill in ale, women throwing themselves to take advantage of drunken men or men having a pretty lady on their knee. The place was alive in the night and Salty did not want any part in it. His days of doing so have been long over. He had my mother and me to support him. He had us for acceptance. Even with the growing dangers around us, we will still be a family in the eyes of my father. The sea may still call to him in her sweet voice, but even a man needs to call a place home. She still misses the former pirate but she appreciates the fact that he has a child with his blood in her veins. Maybe one day the sea will meet her, but not yet. _Not just yet_.

Paying his due to the owner of the tavern, the older man nodded his head indicating that he was leaving the place but my father said that he did not want my things removed from our room. Making sure that the promise was going to stick with the owner, he paid another extra of his coins to the owner. There was a big smile upon the older man's face and his worn out eyes held a spark. Yellow teeth that were worn out and the stench of ale were heavy upon the owner's breath. Salty may not trust many people, but if the owner broke that agreement than my father will not hesitate to show his pirate side. With the tip of his hat my father made his way through the doors of the tavern.

The pitch was low, like the whispering of the wind in the cold of the night. Each sound was beautiful with each strum of emotion that was filled with nothing more than sadness. It gets higher and higher echoing through the streets of Boston as the violinist plays his beloved instrument with expert hands. The day's events will live in the minds of its people. He knew this was the start of something bigger, but his mind was set elsewhere. The feeling of dread loomed over Boston fitting the mood with the tune of a violinist in the tavern.

Who knew emotion could be played so beautifully? Even the heavens were moved by this piece. The sea herself was calm on this night. She must have felt his despair for the sea loved all that sail or have once sailed her. The mistress decided today to be calm for sailors out in the harbor, to be calm for I was still out in the streets with a man and a native boy that I did not know. It was a beautiful piece of music to the former pirate. Music tells a story, it tells of great battles of victory but most often than not about the loss. Much like sailor's who tell of stories of their travels, the music that comes from such instruments speak without much as words. Like the ocean, hearing the sounds of the tunes can only be heard by those who understand it. The sea, she can be jealous if Salty were to turn away from her to hear another much more… _land-lover_ type music.

Looking up to the sky that was slowly clearing itself for the stars to shine, Salty let out a breath of air. Wondering to himself if his family would understand that he was doing this for our protection (_?_). It hurt him-like it hurts my dear mother- that I am out here _alone_ in the cold streets. Trained to fight, trained as the pirate that my father once was, getting in the middle of something that I did not yet understand. Fate had its way of showing itself like how fate showed Salty the ways of the sea. She tells him to follow the path that was given to him. _Follow it for the trail of Gray eye is not so far_. It was then that he should have killed his former captain long ago knowing full well that one day karma would follow.

He believed that Gray eye would die from his wounds. Gray eye was a pirate. He was strong, intelligent, knew better than most, and age made him wiser than other younger sea men. The days of the pirate are slim with this change and who knows how many more are out there?

All the emotion that was being played turned into a bitter sort of pain. The pitch grew even higher with the pain and agony that the violinist felt until it slowed. It died quietly into the whisper in the wind. Salty stopped just a few feet away from the tavern. There was still much to get done before the night was truly cold. The day's event was still strong in the chilly air and after his run-in with Haytham both men set off their separate ways. It felt uncommon for both men to turn their back on one another, but they did so.

"Those who chase after a man stronger than themselves end up dead. Tell me stranger, how could one such as you leave unharmed?"

Salty walked with his eyes low to the ground and stopped when he heard an older man's voice from behind him. Being followed was something that annoyed my father. Most people would avoid such a thing but since it has been years since he used his skills, instinct took over knowing that there was another. He did not recognize this man's voice or when he turned himself to face whoever it was that was speaking, he did not know this older man. It confused him but upon further inspection, a faint remembrance of the day's spectators seemed all but clear.

"I do not know what you speak of, old man. You may have me confused for another." He stated with caution.

"I may be an old man but my eyes do not fail me. Do not play me for a fool. You know what I speak of and I saw you run after _him_." The older man was quick to jump to conclusion. He had a spark of fire that Salty has seen a few times with older people.

He could have smiled at this notion seeing someone who was older by many years have this fire in their voice. But this was not the right time rather this was keeping Salty calm and still. Observation was obvious as my father was looking at the older man. He was shorter than my father, yet there was something a bit strange about him.

"Who are you, old man?"

"It is best for you to say your name than for me to say mine. If you are cautious about me, wherever it is you are heading there is something that I would like you to see. I am not so fond of strangers but you; you are more than a stranger to Haytham."

"What do you know of him?" Salty almost hissed.

"It is not safe to talk in the open on sensitive things. If you want to help than I suggest you come with me."

"Give me reason, old man. I have better and much more important task at hand. Haytham means nothing to me nor his business."

"I believe it is not him, but of another whom brings you much anger, someone who was under his control. The past catches on quickly and before you can blink it vanishes without a purpose. Being a stubborn man as you are, do you believe that you can fight them?"

"How can you know so much if we have never met?"

Salty stood firm in front of the older man. It was evident that he was not Templar as far as he was concerned. He was not some regular old man who goes about to random strangers like some prophet who speaks of the past. Could this man know what Haytham is? Does he know? _To hell with it_! It wasn't so much of Haytham he was speaking about Gray eye. _But how_?!

"I have many ways, _Salty Bones_."

* * *

My eyes were adjusting to the darkness when I step foot on solid ground in the tunnels of Boston. I could see faintly the outlines of objects while my hands were touching the slick and slimy walls. It was best for me to place on hand on the wall despite its weird texture and my other hands outstretched before me to make sure I did not run into any objects that I might come across. Father has taught me to not be afraid of the dark but to keep calm and listen to my surroundings with my other senses. When I could not use the sense of sight my hearing was amongst the strongest.

Water dripping echoed throughout indicating that there were many passage ways and I could feel the rats skitter across my boots making squeaking sounds as I tried not to step on the small rodents. At one point a rat bit down on my boot causing me to throw it at the opposite side of me. I could see the shadow outline of Connor who seemed to be stilled as Mister Adams was making a ruckus trying to find a lantern. We were encased in silence until the lantern was lit.

With light I could see all that was a few feet in front of me. _Abandoned (_?_)_ would be the most simple term but I kept my own thoughts to myself when Mister Adams handed the lantern to Connor. I would only hope-no, prayed- that Connor knows his way around these parts because for certain, I do not. These tunnels are not like that of New York where I spent most of my time exploring new passages but here in Boston, I was out of my element.

By the looks of it, Connor seemed not so sure of himself. He looked like a smart kid and he did not want to look… stupid if he ends up getting us lost. Mister Adams on the other hand was holding back more information than what was being lead on. This was not my ground to trend on and I knew when to back off with much caution.

'_You better have good instincts Connor_.' I thought.

"Use the lanterns to light the lamps, Connor. They'll help us find our way should we get turned around." Mister Adams said. "I hope it will not come to that."

"How many exits are there?" Connor asked.

"There are a few but we only need to go through one. The others can be found on your own free time, but we are on a deadline so I do not mean to be much of a rush. Lead the way Connor."

"These tunnels can go for miles, Mister Adams. As much as I would _like_ to help, but maybe there is an easier way to know where we should turn and what signs to look for." I put in my own opinion.

"Just use the sounds of the animals."

Maybe I was more annoyed with me not doing much-other than stumbling upon more questions than answers- but it only seemed that everything was being balanced on the shoulder of Connor. Whatever it was that Connor was more responsible for; I was not merely involved in it or at least left in the shadows.

"I wonder why they built these tunnels…" Connor spoke.

"Many reasons I suppose." I said with not thinking and simply shrugged. "For one: there are barrels down here, so maybe for storage. Of what is only a guess and my guesses are never so simple."

I looked behind me to Mister Adams seeing if I was on a right path to the answer. He did not seem too fazed by my simple answer as Connor looked back towards me. I shrugged my shoulders once more lowering the tip of my hat. _I was only making observation_ I thought to myself.

Once more we were encased in bitter silence. With Connor leading the way using his hearing, it was pretty astounding that even with the echoes this boy could decipher which way to go. I could say that I was impressed-which I was- this made me want to learn even more. His talents reached higher than my own. His training was far different if not advanced than my own. I knew he was more than what he seems to be. There was something in this native boy that was beyond my learning and beyond my own reach. Of course he grew up in the forest where even the best of hunters have extraordinary skills. Using the sounds of the rats, Connor led us to where we needed to be.

"Well, well! You were right. I apologize for ever doubting. No wonder Achilles has taken such in interest in you."

Crossing my arms and shaking my head, there was this nagging voice in the back of my head when this man's name-Achilles- was mentioned once again. _Was this man Connor's mentor or family member_? I was only curious but I did not ask. Looking over to Connor he seemed impressed more with himself than any. Maybe he doubted his own ability to find his way. He was older than me by some years it seems and I was sure myself that even I would not have found our exit in '_record_' time. I wanted to laugh at myself for being more impressed with this boy. With a friendly gesture I patted his shoulder than back away just a bit.

"Maybe you are capable of being on your own." I teased.

"If I did not run into you, maybe I would have taken a bit longer to get away from the guards."

I smiled under the scarf. "That may be true. I grew up in streets like the one above us. Instinct takes over and then it changes when I cannot see the sky above me."

"Use your hearing if you cannot use your sight. Your strongest trait is sight and touch."

"Oh? I can only guess that yours is hearing and touch." He gave me a small smile.

The conversation between Connor and I was the first time. He did not seem too awkward with me. It showed on his face which was calm. It has been a few hours since we bumped into one another. Maybe he was not so cautious of me (Seeing as I was not a threat) or maybe just polite. Either way, I can see an acquaintance-ship (_?_) growing. _But just not yet_. Though it was not so when I heard Mister Adams having trouble with the door. If it is not one problem it is another. There may have been a spark in the older man's eye when he looked to Connor. I was not looking too impressed with this man using Connor for his own need. If any, I was capable as much as the native boy- but he was proving himself more and more that I was the one that needed more of the training.

"I don't suppose lock-picking is part of your repertoire?"

* * *

The day's events can strain one's body and it can strain one's own mind. I wanted to sleep knowing that we still had a few more hours until the sun rose starting another new day. After leaving the tunnels we headed to one of the printer shops to bribe the printer inside. He was all the eager for the coins he received to keep him from making more wanted posters. From there, Connor had to find a tavern to stay in for the night. There were many to choose from, though he needed one that was not full-_More along the lines of ones that were not filled with much drunken asses or people who wanted trouble. _Even with the late of night there were still people about.

Mister Adams assured me that we meet in the morning at the harbor and to bring what I had. He told me that I would be needed to accompany Connor on his journey back home. I was hesitant on this but my gut told me to do so. Saying my goodbyes to both Mister Adams and Connor I made my way towards the direction of the tavern I was staying in. It was a lonely walk in the middle of the night. Using new routes to avoid conflict from the guards I was hoping to run into my father by now.

Even though I was tired, instead of heading towards the tavern I headed towards the harbor. If there was a place father wanted to meet it would have to be where he could hear the water hit the shores. Keeping myself hidden in the shadows I tried to look for something that I could distinguish as father. One hour turned to two with no sign of my father. Hope was dwindling by a thread when I kept still on the rooftops. Maybe father was at the tavern and that is where I headed. But it was the same once I entered inside. There were still people. No doubt drunk to the point they were falling from their chairs. Father was nowhere in sight. The owner told me that he left some hours ago when the sun set. I knew this could not be so true. This was not like him to leave me on my own without so much as his guidance. Quickly, I headed back upstairs and the owner was right. His travel pack was not within sight in the barely lit room.

Looking around for any sign as to where he left; I looked in my bag and found a note:

_Seliah,_

_Do not be afraid for what I am to tell you. You are still growing and I know that I cannot always guide you through this. Use all that I have given you. Use your talents. Use your strength in your teachings. I have not left you on your own because if I have done so, your mother will drag me out to sea with a heavy rock tied to my feet. Do not return to New York for there is still something that '__you__' need to do. I will not say why I have left you on your own but this is for your own good. We will meet again in a couple of days if not more. Keep in mind that there will be dangers in the coming months. You are ready to be on your own._

I did not know what I should feel. I reread the note over and over again. One: I had to make sure that my Spanish was not playing tricks. Two: in case there was a riddle. In fact I did not know what to even think. Father left me on my own during the killing, not finding me when I was with Mister Adams and Connor, only to leave me alone in Boston. Anger was not how I should feel but I should feel proud. I went through all of this on my own without father being at my side every second. He knew what he was doing from the beginning when we first laid foot in Boston. Did he know about all this? It was possible, but unlikely. No one could have predicted the bloody massacre.

Placing the note back in my pack I stumbled across something familiar. The journal of my father was within my pack. Picking it up in my hands I walked towards the window searching through it with intent. There was something in the journal that I have not read.

'_This is from his beginning._' I thought to myself.

I did not want to read it all. There was a purpose to this. Holding on to the journal in my hands, I would have to wait to read it thoroughly once more. When the sun rises and I meet Mister Adams and Connor at the harbor, more likely we were going to sail to Connor's destination. Funny how the sea calls to her children with pirate blood, no matter how many times I try to not follow in father's footsteps the mistress calls to me. The journal will make a good read.

The stars in the night sky were beautiful this time of year. The snow no longer was falling. The clouds no longer covered the shining lights. I took of my hat letting my hair fall freely. Next was my scarf which now I could smell all that was around me. It was late in the night so bathing would have to wait until a few more hours. The stench of the tunnels, of the day in general was a test; _A test of my self-worth_. I smiled as my eyes recognized certain constellations in the sky.

Thoughts of what tomorrow lay ahead for me: I had to keep myself from straining away. This was a new journey for me. This was a task. There was something that was still troubling me no matter how many times I tried to shrug it off of my shoulder. Father knew something that he was not telling me. Father wants to keep it away from me knowing well that I will end up finding out what it is. His inner demons were haunting him once more. There was a reason why he left me on my own for the first time. There is always a reason for things that he did. It was the matter of me finding out what it was. Is father a part of something that even I will not bare to understand?

'_Could it be that the Templar's are after him once more_?'

"If only you could write in your journal once more, father. Then maybe I can understand what it is that you want to keep away from me." I whispered.

* * *

Thank you for the lovely reviews. The next chapter will come out shortly once I beat this cold. Fight the sickness! Fight!


	8. Sleeping Dogs Lie

**Bad Blood**

* * *

_This tainted old soul runs in the blood of my child. She is forever shamed with the sins of my past. Oh Lord, please find it somewhere within your Holy heart that my family does not burn because of me._

The more I read it I had to look back to try to understand what my father was trying to say. I was taught to never question because it would only lead to _bigger_ questions and problems. He always spoke in riddles when it came to his past. He could not even speak of his horrid thoughts on paper which tortured him for so long. There was always a reason behind what he said whether he meant it to be taken as a riddle or not. What he wrote, this was-for my eyes- more than just a riddle. He was trying to tell me or at least give me an understanding of who he is (_was_). It formed a question of: did I truly know my own father?

He was still hiding behind his past with scars that were still hidden may not have been visible to my mother's or my eyes. He suffered alone.

I could always remember how he would scold me when I did not use my own senses. I used my instincts as often as I could. My use of sight was not as strong as my other senses. I felt shamed knowing that if I could not use my sight I had to keep my other senses as strong. I was not blind for I could still see, but there were certain things that even I had trouble seeing. _Trust what was given to you. Always trust your instincts if not act upon faith._ Father told me to never doubt him. Never doubt how he went about things. Never doubt his ability. It was as if he was preparing me (_?_). If only I knew what he was preparing me for?

I was my father's tool; I was his warrior. Ready to fight when he commanded me too without question, but I did question just never to his face. Times were changing that much I could see. Father has always seen it. Each time, I feared I would lose him to the darkest parts of his thoughts. I turned my thoughts to my own mother who was his light. She would watch as her own child went through training. Coming home with bruises, keeping back the tears when I could not move from my bed; even bathing was a chore she could not stand. She was tough but her eyes…

…I sighed deeply lowering my head with the tip of my hat covering my eyes and the scarf covering my nose down from the cold. The snow was deep with clouds casting its gloomy glow over the trees. Signs of life seemed none existent but spring was to come soon. The forest-this wilderness-was wild and untamed. Could man even tame these wilds? It would seem that if man could than the sea will be nicer. I could almost chuckle at the extent of the men trying to understand the mistress of the waves. I was beyond all that I could not control in an environment that seemed to be deadlier than the sea. Father has not so often spoken of what lies within these wilds. They were not like the sea for him.

We left Boston in much of a hurry gathering extra supplies and a horse for Connor. My steed was well fed, groomed, healthy as the day father and I rode into Boston.

Riding in the wilderness with only a few days behind us it felt as if the more we would ride onwards, the more far from home I become. I did not feel so alone even though Connor was there but these forests… I was beyond my own comfort. I felt exposed to all around me making me even more cautious if not paranoid. This was different. These were not the streets that I knew well. In this situation I had to use my instincts. Wolves could be heard in the far distance running, yelping, growling, which was keeping Connor and me on alert. Red coats were rumored to trail in squads on these routes. British occupying small towns were red zones. We would do all that we could to avoid such areas, but if one of us needed something into town we went. It was not so much the red coats that worried me-we could handle our own-but it was the wild animals that prey upon human flesh.

"You have yet to explain to me why you were in Boston and why you helped me." Connor asked catching me off guard and out of my dark thoughts. "It was not some form of coincidence. If you want to lie to me I would suggest you lie a little bit better."

Raising my head and placing the reigns to my horse in one hand, I used my free hand to take off my hat. The cool air blew against my scalp causing strands of my hair to come loose from the tie holding it back. Something felt wrong with this sudden urge to know my matters. It was off putting but with Connor staring intently at me, I was not going to back down from him. Sooner or later I was going to no longer be a stranger to him. Lying was something that was not my natural instinct when it came speaking, I was not perfect but when it came through body language my disguise was the biggest of all lies.

"If you want truth than I have no reason to lie. The least I can do for helping you." I scratched the bridge of my nose. "My father and I were searching for a blacksmith. He was an old _friend _of my father's years ago. We searched for a few days without luck. The locals were of no help making our search harder than it already was." I stated picking my words carefully. One slip of the word pirate than any further _friendship_ or _trust_Connor was showing would vanish quickly. I was sure that if I were to ask him any question he too would chose his words. We both had our secrets that might have been buried deep. He had something that was a vast shadow casting over him. Only time would tell if we both figure out each other's secrets. _Not yet._

"From what I could see in Boston there were plenty of blacksmith's. Why chose a certain one?" _Easy boy, do not trail farther into shallow water. _He was not going to trust me so easily, even after I basically saved his life in Boston. It did not bother me truly, something like that does not happen every so often. These questions and speculations were bothering me. With growing tensions rising who could afford to make easy friends? I had to take this slow answering as truthful as I possibly can without revealing too much too soon.

"My father's old friend may know how to fix this certain item. Father feared if he went to another blacksmith with this item than maybe its secrets will be spoiled. In truth, it was our sole purpose in the first place. Helping you was me helping those that needed it." The native boy gave me some confused look but it turned quickly to some form of understanding. He did not know that I was referring to the mysterious _hidden blade_. He may not even know for all that I knew. It was the sole reason why I was in Boston with my father. _Why_ we were searching for the blacksmith so he could attempt to fix it. Father wanted to know its secrets _if _the weapon possessed any.

I had to refrain from going into any further detail. I could not trust him with such information. I wasn't even sure if he knew what I was talking about… _too many secrets_. He also could not know why it was that I helped him. The more I held back from the truth I knew that it would come back to haunt me.

"You wanted the truth I gave you it. There are certain things about me that maybe you will not understand and I know there are things about you I will not understand. We keep ourselves hidden until we both can learn to trust one another." I stated simply.

"I do not trust you fully. You do not trust me fully. After all that I have seen, people cannot be trusted unless they proved themselves. A _girl_ who disguises herself as a boy for what reason is more than suspicious. There is more to you than what I or anyone else can see."

"Do I look like some pretty _girl_ one would see on the street? Why do you question me when I should be the one to question you?" I retorted lowering my scarf to reveal my entire face.

"I was in Boston for simple supplies that should not be a matter of yours."

"And I suppose you killing that man on the roof no matter of mine as well? I gave you my reason but yet you only give me one simple reason. What I saw in Boston was something that does not happen every day. I am no stranger to you, Connor. You know my name even my disguise. I helped you through Boston not because I needed to help you in any way I could. Convincing you is like telling the sea to bring about a calm sail in a storm."

Connor wanted to speak once more but he might not have the right words to say. He seemed a little shocked that I became defensive about my_situation_. I became defensive because I felt I was talking to a brick wall. I only wanted trust and understanding, but Connor would block me from trying. He was hiding something.

I backed down lowering my gaze to the reigns of my horse. Tightly my hands were becoming. Never have I felt this way, only because no one asked about it. No one questioned it. No one knew. How could I feel- even think-when I was trained to… no! I was told to keep my emotions in line or else I would bring those around me in danger. But this… this was not so. I was acting out like some child out of pure rage.

"Forgive me or not, you chose which you want. You are the first person (other than Mister Adams) outside of my family that knows about me. If anyone else were to find out I could be shunned from the community or worse…" I trailed off.

"You could be hanged or executed for suspicion? The British are weary of spies but I do not stand for their tolerance of how they treat people. They treat my people no better. I have seen it. Anyone that gets in their way will only suffer. You disguise yourself as a boy for your own reason. I killed the man on the roof for a simple reason that may change your opinion of me; if you do not already have one."

"Then why do you do it?" I asked.

"I tried my best to prevent the massacre from happening. You saw it. Those people were unarmed but that did not stop it from happening." He stated. "There was someone else that fired that shot." He whispered.

Sighing once more I looked up to the sky above. Wishing that the stars would come out so I could find my constellation up there in the vastness of it all because there was too much weight upon not only mine, but it seemed to be on Connor's shoulder's as well. There was another meaning to his statement, that which I could not press on. We had our own reasons for this fight. My thoughts went back when I was hit in the head with Lennon's rifle. How much anger and pain that caused me inside but on the outside I was determined while mother and father felt protection.

"Nightfall is to come soon. How far are we from our destination?" I asked changing the subject. There was no need for tension or this discussion. I only wanted to move forwards because _fate_ was nagging at me like some old crow.

"Another day's travel if we continue." He spoke suddenly.

"Then let us continue onwards before nightfall. Then, maybe then we could solve our problems around the campfire." I gave the boy a reassuring smile one of which when I moved my horse forwards, he gave me a small smile.

* * *

"He is dead?!" His voice was raised higher than he expected it to be. His eyes were wide showing much anger to the man sitting on a stool tending to a burning fire. The man seemed to be deep in thought, poking at the fire keeping it alive. The shadows of every object near the fireplace had an orange and red hue. The silence was growing heavy much to anyone's content. Salty paced back and forth, chewing on his thumb nail in distress.

"You have not been in contact with your former crew member in years Salty. What did you expect to happen?" The man said rather coldly.

Salty stopped chewing at his nail to glance towards the man by the fire. His short stay at the manor was not sitting well inside of the former pirates head. Like the Templar's, he wanted nothing to do with the works of these assassins. This was still _their_ war that they have been fighting for many centuries now. Centuries that had nothing to do with Salty's family or bloodline. The dots always seemed to be connected with Campbell whose father has assassin linage. _It makes sense. But why and how am I connected to all of this?_

"I should be asking why, but even that seems to be wrong."

The older man was told about Salty's involvement with Haytham. Why it was that the Templar was after him. Why he kept hidden for many years. It was certain that the Templar's wanted to use pirates for their own needs. Pirates could steal, destroy ships and people, they were ruthless blood-lust _creatures_, and they seemed to be perfect for use. The Templar's could use such propaganda but Salty refused many times over.

He wanted a different life. He chose to live on the lands. He had a family. The older man could not tell what the former pirate was thinking. His body language was still and firm, pacing slowly back and forth. It all was too much even for my father. Were _we _connected to what was happening around us? Did I-his daughter- have a part to play?

"What was it that Gray eye was planning?" He said, breaking the silence. "Achilles, I must know."

"Campbell was not specific of the manner. I have been a busy man dealing with Connor and his training. Sometimes I want to strangle the boy myself for his stubborn ways. If it is not Templar's it is something else. Campbell feared that Gray eye would find the letter and decipher its contents within it. Still he found out about your friend and killed him, throwing him in the sea to be found by a passing merchant ship." Achilles spoke.

Salty understood that the older man had to deal with another problem. It was not so much a problem dealing with a young native boy named Connor from the Mohawk tribe. He was training to be an assassin which Achilles said will help with the spark of war between the patriots and British. Still, there was something else that Achilles was not saying and Salty dared not trend into deep shark infested water. It was not his business to look into. His thoughts were on Campbell, the blacksmith; a pirate.

_So he knew he would die._ Salty thought to himself. _That damn bastard. Does Gray eye think I was involved with assassins when I cast him out from being captain? There is something deeper that I fear Seliah will get dragged into._

"With Gray eye siding with the Templars, their code of silence is too strong. Even so their hold on the pirate was not strong as they thought or even cared. Haytham said that not even he heard from Gray eye in years. _Business _is what he told me. The Templar's have their own problems to attend to than to babysit pirates. Campbell should have found me but I was too stubborn to look the other way. Now my daughter will be caught in the crossfire because of it." He crossed his arms over his chest. The look of disappointment spread thin across his features only to be covered by the shadows casted by the fire.

"He tried to find you. The best trackers that were at our disposal tried to pick your scent. Salty, you were a hard man to find. Even with Campbell's assassin background you could not be found even by assassins. You hid your tracks and now you come out of the shadows."

Looking to the older man near the fireplace, a look of hurt and guilt flashed on my father's face. This did not go unnoticed by Achilles. He understood that Salty wanted to keep his secrets, his sins, everything buried underneath. The former pirate had to speak or at least confess before the situation ends up killing him; if it did not kill him inside.

My father wanted me to understand him. He wanted me to know who he was truly, but he just could not find the words to say.

"I had reason for my hiding. I started a family and had a business until I could barely make do with the pay. Above it all my own child could have been killed. She is like me in many ways. God only knows how long her disguise will be of more use." He placed his hands on his head. "I want her to stay within these compounds to further train her like you are training that native boy."

Achilles did not like where this idea was going.

"Even if she does stay within these parts I will not have responsibility of what she does. I will have to inform her about assassins once she arrives; horrible enough that I have to look after one stubborn boy." He grumbled.

"Seliah is not so stubborn but is as determined. My own daughter has become my soldier, give her a mission and she will do so. She will help with whatever it is that you ask for. I have my own mission which does not involve her. Gray eye may think I am allied with assassins and for what I did long ago, than I will let him as long as I find him. This is why I must be on my own. I know I would have to end him. I have to find him before he finds my family."

"You better hope you know what you are doing, boy."

Achilles saw the hurt and the hate the former pirate had for himself. There was no telling what lay behind each door he goes through. He had to put every bit of information in place. _Campbell was an assassin's son_. It was much to take in on its own. He could dwell on it but Salty had a task. All he could do was find his former captain. There was nothing that could change his mind until Gray Eye was found and killed. Somehow, with this un-rest it might be harder to find the pirate. People were going to rise against the British and their king. It was only a matter of time.

"I thank you Achilles for bringing me into your home. I do not want to keep you any longer than I have already. All of this new information makes sense in its own way. If this was fate that brought not only me, but Seliah to this, than I must respect it. I must head to New York for my wife must not wait any longer. My family needs to be safe no matter my cost. I want my daughter to be stronger than what her body can give her. I fear… she would need it."

* * *

No one exactly knows what it was that fate had in store for anyone. As a child looking at the box before me, holding in my hands my father's journal he knew from that day I would understand. I was determined to make sense of where I belonged in this world. There was still this sense of a hidden world that I have yet to find. There was much I wanted to know. With the night comes about the predators. Fire is the need for protection for those who felt fear of being eaten by the sharp fangs of the animals or taken into the shadows never to be seen again.

Fire is a passion that burns bright. Its flames can burn but it can also be used to heal. It dances to a beat and each time I stare into it I could see the waves of that of the sea. She dances beautifully in front of me. I kept my back straight on the tree as the sun disappeared revealing the night sky. Its stars shinning bright, my body could not relax. Connor was at the opposite side of me with eyes closed, listening to the forest around us. The conversation we had earlier in the day was something more of a personal matter. We were both trying to only understand one another through what we have done in Boston. It was all so sudden and it happened fast. We have yet to rise to the surface of who we are and what part we will play in each other's lives.

Before the sun was setting we continued onward in silence with only the sounds of our horses and nature before us. Only time would tell if we would learn to trust one another.

_Only time…_

_Only time…_


	9. Sea Snake Host's

**Bad Blood**

* * *

The days following the massacre in Boston the rope that was holding back the tension was becoming weak. English soldiers guarding their post were weary of its citizens-for-not in fear of revolt from people who were not soldiers themselves, but something was (_something felt_) strange in the air. Its citizens may have been broken thinking the red coats have finally gotten the respect they deserved after showing that the people were weak against an army and their king. It was as if he were walking in a town that was filled with ghosts in despair. Even in the hearts of some of the '_freedom fighters_'-as he named them- wanted to rise against the oppression. 'In due time', they say, 'in due time'.

Reaching the front doors of the _**Green Dragon**_ he entered inside with eyes looking to his general direction. This tavern was known for many things, other than the gambling and the whoring, it was known to only a few to be the meeting place for the Order of the Knights Templar.

Musicians continued onward with their music, men continued to drink and gamble away their hard earned coins (if many were honest to make a decent living), and servers made do with what they had. It was as if they knew that mysterious men would conjure upstairs, talking in whispers as the flames of the candles flicker with their breath. No one knew who they were or what it was that they did, but for the owner could not care for what these men did.

…_Nothing but regulars_. He would always say.

With no one to be of a bother or of any interest he headed towards and ascended the stairs as the livelihood began to soften without much care other than a man's next pitch of ale. Expecting to see his comrades in deep conversation around the table where they had many meetings about the findings of the key or this fascination of the coming war, the Templar was at the last steps-without so much as a facial expression- came across a man sitting casually drinking his ale in calm listening to his surroundings closely.

"Dead men wonder when their chance will come to walk among the living, aye, Haytham?" He said, lips no longer drinking. "Growing older yet, still so dangerous as if we have not changed with that time, Hn."

The man placed his mug of ale on the table feeling somewhat satisfied with his fill. He noticed that he was not alone on the second story of the building for his one dead eye took noticed of this familiar authority. With a turn of his head the flickering of the candle moved almost burning out. Haytham stood just a few feet from the table knowing well that this man was the last man he would want to see. All in good modesty-if one could say- the Templar walked towards an empty chair across from the pirate who kept his _eye_ sharp in a caution manner.

"I know that look. I have seen it many a_time _before. You were not expecting me to be here or anywhere for that matter." Gray eye stated simply taking off his hat and placing it beside him on an empty chair.

Haytham spoke no words as he placed his arms on the table; keeping his eyes on the older pirate before him. If there were many things the Templar disliked (hate was such a strong word for Haytham) it would have to be pirates. They were dying off slowly not quickly enough much for his taste, but they were somewhat loyal to the causes of Templar's. Unlike Gray eye who could chew through his rope around his neck. The old sea dog was not so much easy to handle. He acted upon his own needs and not by the word of others. A true pirate: much to Haytham's annoyance.

"What do I owe this un-Godly _pleasure_ to be under the same roof as you?" Haytham spoke with a cold and utter distaste in his mouth.

Gray eye did not flinch nor did he act out for the Templar clearly showed disrespect to the pirate. It was not like to do such a thing. The older pirate had too much calmness, too much patience to feel the need to act in such a violent/hateful manner. No matter, closing his eye lid over the dead gray eye, he leaned in clasping his hands together.

"Such words may have sent you over board if you were upon my ship, lad." He warned. "You may think that you have the upper hand with that blade." Gray eye quickly placed his hand on Haytham's blade arm. With enough force it would have been triggered but the older pirate was no fool. It was the wielder who could perform such a task. "But even I cannot be so much careless when it comes to you."

Haytham had a ghost of smile to Gray eye's observation. The pirate knew of his hidden blade, but what the older man did not know was that Haytham had an assassin's lineage. He kept it hidden not allowing that part of his life come to light. The only person to know of such a thing was Haytham's sister, but that was another matter. The hidden blade was his tool which he knew how to use. Gray eye could not find out about it for if he did, the pirate would question.

"Why am I here if you are going to be hostile?" Haytham asked.

"Hostile does not even cut it." Gray eye took back his hand and once more clasping his hands together in mere thought. Without even knowing, Haytham's blood circulated back through his arm. The pirate looked away from the man sitting in front of him. Looking down to his pack that was before his feet, Gray eye moved back his chair making a skidding noise that was not so loud. Haytham wanted to look over the table in curiosity, but that childish side of him has been dead for so long.

He was rummaging through his pack looking for _it_. Once it was found, he looked up throwing this object on the table causing Haytham to sit straight in his chair. Hands upon his lap with eyes looking at this brace that was similar to his own, yet there was a different quality to it. It was broken and cracked in many places where as the blade was still as sharp but it was broken at the end where it would have been in the brace to trigger.

"Where…" Haytham spoke but could not muster the words that were sitting on his tongue.

"There is more to the reason of you being here than this blade." Gray eye looked to the weapon on the table. "He thought that he could gain back what was lost. As I hired former crew members who were loyal to me, I searched for _my _ship in the coldest of places."

Haytham sat forwards once more knowing that this was going to be a long explanation, but any information was information none-the-less. This had nothing to do with finding the key. Pirate business was not much concern to the Templar or to any of the other Templar's. Still, there was something more to this.

"Searching the coldest of climates for many years, I found the mole within my fleet. Campbell hid well knowing the tactics used for blending in without my knowledge. Intelligent bastard even used Salty Bones to conjure my men to munity against me." He took a sip of his ale and placed it back on the table. "It was of no wonder he and Salty Bones took their rise against me."

"How did you know Campbell was that mole?" Haytham asked.

Gray eye would have smiled but he kept his face calm. Self-assured that one flinch or even a twitch would give away more than just words which the Templar did not want. Haytham was curious (he will admit) no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"It was only speculation when I noticed another member to my search. My old memory deludes me at times but when I noticed carrier birds coming to and fro, he knew I was on to him. The moment I had my back turned I heard that sound of the blade. I have had my fair share of fighting assassin's. They are a formidable foe. When I placed Campbell's blade in his side, he spoke to me through his bloody gurgles. Confessing his sins to me in his need like the dying dog he was. One assassin aside, I am more than certain Salty has connections with them. Both were close. Both were intelligent. Never would I have known that assassins were amongst my own crew."

"What do I have to do with any of this? Your business is your own…"

Gray eye placed up his hand to silence Haytham. The Templar was too impatient with being… _nice_. Enough with putting up with old pirate's tales even though they were of some importance, Haytham had other importance to attend too.

"I understand you want to find the key." This stopped Haytham quickly to a point he wanted to growl like some savage dog. "We pirates are not some stupid creatures you take from the sea so you can wrap them in your short leashes. Campbell was sending letters to someone who knew of your expeditions. Before he died he told me about some native boy in training. He would be your downfall from all I could get out of that traitor."

"I see."

Gray eye sat back in his chair. His one eye staring intently at the Templar before him; watching and waiting to see if he could understand what they were going to go up against.

"Do you truly see, Haytham? I know what is happening around me, but that is for your matter not mine. My fight and your fight will come to cross again. Until that time, I will be on the search for Salty. I hear he is still within New York."

Gray eye had no business with the search for the key. He had another agenda that needed to be taken care of. Campbell was dead, now it was Salty's long overdue with his meeting with Davy Jones. His par-take in the mutiny that overthrew Gray eye as captain was still fresh in his mind. Acting out on revenge was too settle; too quick for it would be over within a second. Gray eye was calculating, waiting for that right moment to play with the minds of his enemy. Still, there was something that needed to be waited upon. _The war…_

* * *

We were at our destination with the sun still shinning down upon us. Our ride was consumed with nothing more than silence. It was a calm silence that I have gotten used to in such a short time. The conversation that bestowed upon Connor and I the day before was like an open wound. It cut deep down waiting for it to be infected. Such nasty slashes could leave negative opinions. I could remember this morning's early light reaching down through the naked trees clearly thinking of what was exchanged. We did not speak of what was said, but it was clearly lingering over our shoulders waiting for it to pass. Leaving it as such I did not push it further.

'_No use in trying to further break a wall_.'

I stretched out my sore muscles hearing the pops of my bones. My scarf exposed my face to the chill air as my hair was held back by a tie I made with some strands falling loosely in my face. My hat was in one hand until I felt the need to place it back on. My horses' ears twitched in annoyance, hearing the door to the house open and then close quickly. Connor has left me outside only stating that he had to deal with the_issues_ that happened in Boston with Achilles. Clearly, there was something more to this. _There always is_. I was still a stranger in Connor's eyes-one who is slowly gaining his trust- it was after all, the best for him to attend to his own matters without much of my intrusion.

Grabbing the reigns of my horse, I pulled the animal close to me as I placed my hand on the bridge of his nose. My mind soon turned away from reality and was now admiring the beauty of the vast trees that surrounded me. I was observing my new surroundings in mere silence. The cold breeze blew in that familiar scent of the salty sea and I knew that _she_ was near. That peace always deluded me in these times. I had doubt. I was feeling far from home. Father left me to pursue his own means. Was it truly only fate that could only lead me here to this magnificent place.

_How could such a place go unmolested_? Nature still claims her lands. This home that is before me was rundown needing repair. It was old by the looks of it. All around _us _there were many trees making the illusion that no one lived here. Even with the few run down-what seemed like-buildings. It was as if I was in a dream. _Someone does live here. New places will not always be so crowded._ Reality can take many forms when I realized that I was not dreaming.

Leading my horse to the stables he began to move forwards towards a barrel of hay. He was hungry from the day's long journey. I understood my horse for I felt the need to eat as well. The stable man took this opportunity to take care of my animal and with my steed taken cared of I took my pack, placing it over my shoulder, and continued on back to the front of the home, waiting for Connor to come out. Until I heard,

"Hey! Heeeeeelp!"

I stopped right in my tracks on the steps leading to up. I heard what was I suppose was knocking on glass and the sound of heavy breathing. Curious as to this random event, I began to head in the direction of the call.

"Sir?" I asked startling a man whom I come across.

"Please help." He asked rather quickly through shaky intake of breath. Observing quickly I saw that this man had red tinted cheeks. It may be due to running at such a fast pace leaving him breathless as I could see him clutching at his chest wanting air. There was a sense of urgency as I walked forwards causing him to be startled once more with the sound of my boot crutching against the ground.

Taking notice of his immediate action, I placed one hand up and placed my pack on the ground in surrender. I walked forwards towards him with no indication of me hurting or causing him any harm. I had to be sure that he saw me as an ally not as an enemy. In case something was to happen I had my dagger in its sheath on my belt. Placing one foot in front of the other the man kept weary of me. Our eyes were locked for a fraction of a second before both of us could speak. Hearing the sound of a door opening I assumed it was Connor who was going to be the first to address to the situation. This gave the man an opportunity to rush past me as I was lost in mere thought. Sighing heavily in annoyance and with hunger growing in my belly I went to grab my belongings and rounded the corner of the home.

"Do not think that you will go unnoticed if you chase after those two. Leave it be, child." A voice said.

There stood a man with a walking stick in the doorway looking sternly at me. He was an elder who may have seen many days. His stare had me frozen to the ground when he took his first steps towards me. He was very… intimidating despite his age. I have seen men who held his same gaze, but it does not mean that I was trembling under my own skin.

"I do not suppose Connor has spoken a word to you about who he truly is or what it is that he is doing."

I raised a brow to his words. They seemed blunt and straight to the point. Clearly there was something that I was not being told for I did not answer the question. How aggravating fate can be when I was not being told the answers. Always do I have to figure out the answers or find a way to understand what is being given to me?

"I do not suppose he has for I am lost in the dark." It was more of an answer I could conjure in my racing mind.

There was a disproving scowl on the man's lips. Mumbling under his breath once more his stare was keeping me frozen in place. Elder people were always so observant and scrutinized every fine detail of one's own flaws. Though, not all elders were as cynical in appearance as this man seemed to be. He turned his back to me walking back inside. I was not sure if I should follow behind but I did so without a second thought. This man knew something that Connor was not going to tell me.

Despite my own efforts to understand this new found _freedom _that was granted to me by my father, I still felt lost. Upon entering the manor it was vast and open. Big enough for an entire family with children yet, this place was almost as empty. Following the older man after closing the door behind me into a large room with a fireplace he took a seat on a stool staring into the dancing flame.

"Do you know anything about these past few days?"

I was almost startled by the low voice that was not so threatening or demanding as just moments before. Taking off my hat and lowering down my scarf I also placed my pack with my belongings at the entrance into the room.

"I do not understand what it is that you ask of me."

There was a sudden shift in the older man's position.

"Do you know anything about your father?"

"I do not understand what it is that you want me to know. What does the mention of my father have to do with anything?" I asked.

Taking his eyes away from the fire, the older man stood on his feet once more. I kept my breath low and steady. If I was to get answers it was best to be calm. I may look like my father, I may have his blood running through my veins, but I was not going to be like him. Despite it all I wanted the answers. I need to see the light at the end of this darkness.

"He was here just some days ago before your arrival. I was aware at that time that you will be arriving after your father has left this premise. Samuel Adams informed me through a letter. Back to the matter at hand, child, are you aware of what you know about your father?" He pressed.

Uncertainty was etched on my face. I was not sure where to start or what it was that he wanted to know. He may already know about my father being a pirate. I do not know how he could have found out about sensitive information that was buried. I did not trust him, but if I was going to get the answers I needed I had to walk the tight rope.

"My father's name is Salty Bones but he goes by the name of Eloy. Once a pirate that sailed the seas many years ago, he became the captain of Ghost of Davy Jones after Gray eye was… I do not know what has happened for my father tore out the detail along with another detail of this massacre. After that he wanted to start a new life with my mother in New York. He became a carpenter and I was born. I was almost killed by a red coat when I was just a child running in the streets. He trained me with knowledge of the sea, speaking in his native Spanish, and he has now left me to my own devices. Is this truly necessary?" I stated.

"What do you know of Gray eye?" He questioned.

"He was my father's mentor/captain that made him into a pirate in his early years. As a child I ran into him and a man named Haytham. It has been years since I last saw either man. Father once stated that he thought Gray eye was dead but I confirmed it that he was not." I raised a brow with speculation. This older man was trying to get something out of me as if to figure out this riddle. Father was here and knowing him, he did most things in riddles. Then something broke through the cracks.

"My father knew, didn't he?"

There were still missing pieces of information that I did not know. Perusing what I did know I looked to the older man with an emotionless expression. Explaining things out loud to a man that I did not know, but somehow father knew… _Damn_.

"Leave your father to peruse after Gray eye, child. Do not be so foolish to go and find your father, knowing well that he left you on your own. He asked me to let you stay under this roof to keep you from searching for him. Your father knows that Gray eye is as dangerous as any deadly snake. If his word is true that you listen like a soldier, he wanted you to stay here. I know about what your strength and weaknesses they would be of use."

_Damn_. Father gave me an order and I have to oblige to that. Not realizing that my hands have balled to fists, I could feel my nails dig into my skin. This was another one of his missions. Only this time, I was left on my own to deal with something far beyond my personal experience.

"I may be my father's tool, but I also have a free will despite my own sex. What is it that I am _useful_ for?" I sneered, tired of being left to drown in the deepest of the ocean.

"Calm yourself, child. You are much like your father other than looking like him. You even act out of your own frustrations." He spat. "Like father, like daughter."

I could have lashed out but I refrained from being an example of my father. This was not how I wanted to find out. I felt as if I was being dragged into a corner where I could not move as the world in front of me grew bigger and harsher. Swallowing my selfish pride I placed my tail in-between my legs. I had to accept my fate no matter where it was leading me. I had to listen to her before I ended up hurting people I love.

"If I am to be useful, I need to know who I am getting involved with." I said with defeat.

"There will be a time where you will have to do something that I am aware you have never done. You will have to kill in order to get information. What _we _do, many have not lived or were granted such access. As a pirate's daughter you will have to be vigilante. You will have to train harder than what your father has put you through. We just only scratched the surface of what is to come." There was a cold chill that ran down my spine as he spoke.

With new understanding of my _role_ I was going to have to leave my father be. Meaning I was going to let him peruse Gray eye on his own without so much of my help. It was for the best that I was not in my father's way and now I understood why he left me-so I thought.

"Will I begin to truly understand as time goes by?" I asked with uncertainty.

"I am not to expect you to fully understand, but as the time does pass I hope you place the pieces together. No one is certain of what is to truly happen."

* * *

I stepped inside of the room I was to stay in for the time being. Looking around at my new _home_ there was nothing more than a bed big enough for two people to share. There was a drawer that has seen better days with wood chip off at the sides near a curtain less window. My new room was almost empty and I prayed deeply if I could find a wash room. If I was going to stay underneath this roof, I was going to have to listen to what that old man said. On my own now felt as if the God's of the sea were very generous to me. Placing my belongings on the bed I began to take off my knee length coat that was weathered. The colors that were once bright were now faded away into a gray dull. With it in my arms it was just another reminder of home.

No longer was I going to wait on my mother to make my baths. No longer was I going to wait on her fresh meals that filled my stomach. We left her on her own. Father and I left my mother back in New York. I wonder if she felt as if we abandoned her. I placed my coat on the bed and reached for the necklace around my neck. Twirling around the metal that was shaped of a cross with the colors of my father's flag, I wanted to take it off. This piece of metal was important to me in every way because I had pirate blood in me. _Who am I_?

I was stuck between being Seliah the daughter of Salty Bones, but at the same time I felt like I was someone else. Disguising myself as a mere boy was just another part of me. Caught in this web I was beginning to unravel. Was what I was doing going to make it right? I was here in this manor with two people that were still strangers to me and I was the same to them. Clenching the necklace with my hand I let it go as I sighed deeply.

_Who am I_?

Within this time I was not sure. Would it all have changed if I never knew about my father? Maybe I would still be running in the streets with my orphan friends causing havoc amongst the English soldier's, until I grew into a woman ready for marriage. I scowled at that thought. No man would want me. I am not what they seek. I am no full figured woman like my mother. I did not have what she had for a proper wife for a middle-classed man. Her beauty, her child bearing hips, any form of beauty in a woman I just simply did not have.

I am still too young to think such thoughts for I was still just a child in this world. My time will come when I will have developed _something_ that dignifies me as a woman. Once more with a deep sigh I had to think of what is to come for my new life. I could not think with these childish thoughts of my beauty-or _lack-there-of_- or figuring out who I truly am. What was said to me I had to keep firm. I could not let my own guard down. I will grow to understand, hopefully. Somehow, I could not help but feel this sense of dread that befallen upon me.

Blood…

So much blood…


	10. Truth be told by the Dog's

Disclaimer: I do not own assassins creed 3.

* * *

**Bad Blood**

* * *

He walked along the streets. The cool breeze of the early morning blew steadily waiting for the people to rise for another's long day of work. There were empty merchant stalls, stores that were getting prepared for the day, there was even the sound of a horse in a stall not far away, it all seemed wholesome to know that even after what has happened people wanted to live their life as best they possibly could. Some wanted nothing more than to keep away from the violence. They were not fighters for a sole reason. The king still held on to the reigns and his soldier's fed on the fear.

With his pack thrown over his shoulder, free hand in the pocket of his coat, he continued to move forwards. There was no need to stand in the middle of the street waiting for life to begin once more in the place he called home for so long. Coming close to a familiar setting with a shop-also a humble home- the door opened steadily revealing a figure with a basket in _her _hands. She was dressed in her cleaning wear. Her hair held back by a simple hair tie with loose strands falling to her face. Admiring his version of beauty, this woman was always so faithful. His heart would have stopped as he kept searching within himself the right words to tell her.

'_She will not want to hear the news, but it is for the best that she does_.'

She looked towards him with wide eyes and a smile. Oh! How he loved her simple smile. Men can talk of their love for many different things. The sea: _she _still holds that place in ol' Salty's heart. After many years on land, _she_might see her child go back to the sea to search for her other child. There was a pause in his thoughts. Once she noticed he was alone that smile faded away quickly; with question. Placing the basket back inside of the home, he was now close enough to speak with her. His pack was placed by his side as she took his hand in hers. There were going to be much question as to what has happened.

"Where is Seliah?" She whispered.

"She is safe." He began trying to find the right words. "The blacksmith I was to see in Boston was killed and then… the worse happened. Soldier's fired upon unarmed civilians. It was all chaos, Adolfa. Seliah and I separated trying to find answers as to why."

"What?" Her voice almost shrieked.

"Try not to worry for her. She is _safe _where she is at; remember I trained her to the best of her ability." He looked into her eyes seeing the threat of tears forming. He knew that this was going to be hard. "I do not mean to upset you. Let us talk inside about what it is that you have in question. We have been gone for far too long for you. Forgive me for such a thing. I am afraid that something has befallen upon us."

She sighed with a steady breath. Salty moved one hand to her cheek feeling the pain of guilt for bringing his family into this terrible curse of his. It was but a matter of time before it all burned down into nothing more than smoldering ash. He did not want to have to live with the memory of losing what he fought so hard to get. _A family_. What he was going to tell her was going to affect her more than it did me.

"What has befallen upon this family?" She asked with much worry in her voice. "I do not want to have to bury my husband and daughter if something where to go wrong." She whispered. "I will refuse to do so."

"It will not come to that, I promise. I assure to you that Seliah will not die before either of us. I know you must miss her, I miss her, but she needed to be on her own for a while. I had to make that decision on my own. She will come back to us when the time is right."

It has been a long journey home. Rest was a much needed desire for Salty. If he was to continue onwards with the search, a plan was to be made. As of now he had to keep steady and still until he could make his move. Gray Eye was going to be nothing more than a ghost in the wind. Right now, that would have to wait until his mind could think clearly.

* * *

Inside of his home there was a tense unexpected surprise waiting for him in his own home. It felt heavy. Looking to the top of the staircase stood another figure staring down with a scowl across his aged face. He stood straight and tall as the door behind him closed. Salty knew very well who this person was.

"Emilio?" Salty looked to the much older man with surprise. "When did you arrive?"

"I wondered when you will return from Boston. Adolfa has told me that you and Seliah were away looking for an old friend of yours. I came here not long after you two left for your destination. There was a chill in my bones as my ancestors guided me here without much question." He asked in a rough voice as he descended down the steps. "But what would you know about ancestors?"

Salty wanted to scowl at the comment. He had no time to deal with another boorish man- even one who still did not see him as family. He wanted to rest his tired body. He could already feel the fatigue in his muscles waiting to collapse where he stood. Age was certainly causing Salty to slow down physically, though his sharp tongue of a pirate would never ease to rest. No one still dare trend the murky waters of a former pirate.

"I will not deal with your tongue, Emilio. I have had enough of being looking down upon as if I am worthless. I had to return home without my daughter at my side, only to have a man insult me in my own home. What I encountered in Boston was far beyond then the killing of innocent people. Blood splattered the roads, people were screaming and finding cover, I had to chase a man older than I by a few years and yet here you stand before me, insulting me."

Emilio crossed his arms over his chest. Adolfa silently backed away walking to the kitchen leaving both men alone. Each time the men crossed one another's path, they would stare down each other like a bunch of dogs. Each time she would walk away not wanting any part of it. Nothing more than a family matter. She knew that Salty will talk to her when the fire has settled between her husband and father.

My grandfather was a mean old man who very well had a dislike for my father. Mother once told me that the reason being was that father had no Aztec bloodline. Clearly, father was from Spain as my mother was Aztec that kept pure for many generations. When father spilled his seed into her, that bloodline became tainted which grandfather was not so happy about. After many years of my birth, even Emilio could not accept me until mother stated that I was still a part of her.

All was silent in nothing more than a bitter stare down with one another until father spoke out the truth. There was no chance of backing down when the truth was already out; it was not my father to do so. Emilio walked towards my father with anger filled eyes and threw a punch making Salty stagger backwards clenching his burning cheek. Even for an older man, he can throw a hell of a punch. Than Emilio threw another punch to Salty's other cheek until Adolfa stumbled in, quickly putting distance between my father and grandfather.

"You bastard!" Emilio shouted pointing an accusing finger in front of Salty. "You pirate bastard! Not only have that Spanish blood tainted _my _family, but pirate blood as well. You might as well curse us." He growled.

"Father…" Adolfa tried to explain but Emilio glared directly at her.

"Emilio, I have explained enough of my situation. If I do not find Gray Eye, he will come after your daughter and granddaughter. My bloodline is cursed but it does not mean that I can try to break it. My former captain is a sly snake waiting to hurt those who have hurt him in the past. If he does not find me, he will find my family. Forgive me for bringing this upon _your _family, but it is my weight to bear."

"Forgive you? What is there to forgive from a sea dog? You hid your past from those you _claim _to love. Did you not think once that it will come to haunt you? Adolfa, you married a lie and a cheat. I love you for you are my daughter and Seliah for she came from your womb, but this pirate has given me more than enough of a reason to want him dead. You should have been hanged in the gallows from the beginning. Pirates…"

Salty was being fueled with rage. How dare a man speak to him in such a way? He knew that Emilio would never accept him into the family because of his blood, but now with more reason Salty was hanging by a thread. If Emilio wanted nothing to do with Salty-then so be it. His past has already haunted him for long enough to last him another lifetime. He had to place the final nail in the coffin and throw it into the sea where it could sink down into the bottom where all evil things go.

"Father, you are acting rash with what you are hearing. People hide their true selves to protect not because they want to ruin what they have. You are no saint yourself, father. No one is."

"Pirate no longer, I still love _MY _family. I need to keep them safe from whatever harm comes. Seliah is training under… under allies against the king and his army. She will be looked after until all of this madness has ended."

Emilio wanted to punch Salty once more but with Adolfa standing between them, he could do no such thing. Hearing information that was buried deep was not as easy to take in. Adolfa took it harder. Too many thoughts ran through her mind.

"What if they find out that Seliah is a girl?" Emilio was the first to speak after a long silence.

"I pray that no one other than close allies know. I do not wish for her to be in a battle of men, but she is much like me. Her disguise will be of use until she _develops_."

"And what of you? When will you leave?" Adolfa spoke.

"I will leave within a week's time to start my search. Gray Eye has enough of a head start on me. I cannot risk staying here. I am sorry, but I have to leave for a while to search for him. Somehow, we will meet in the middle if this war is to start."

* * *

**Four Months Later**

There has been a time where I could not even stand on my own two legs. A mere child who should be helping her mother with her cooking for the day, doing chores around our nimble home earning a small token, waiting for her father to come inside from a long work day at the shop, and it all seemed as if it were a dream. I no longer had that life as a child. Closing my eyes I lowered my head to see the tip of my hat within my sight. My arms were placed upon my knees as I leaned back against the tree taking in the cool fresh air. There was peace within me when I let my muscles relax. Opening my eyes I looked to the dagger within my grasp. The _first_ weapon within my arsenal was growing dull and overused.

It has been four months since I have lived within the area. I was getting used to my surroundings with daily walks watching as raccoons, rabbits, squirrels, and all aspects of the wildlife go about their own lives unaware of what is to happen. There was change to this once _quiet _place. People were beginning to make this place their new home for their own reasons. Godfrey and Terry, two lumbermen, whom I have had the pleasure of meeting. Both had wives by the name of Catherine and Diana; lovely women. How both of them could stand their husbands is beyond my understanding. What character's they are. At first glance one could mistake the two men for brothers, but they were friends; the best of friends.

Another man to make his home here was Lance-a craftsman who was once a citizen of Boston. But trouble set afoot for the poor man for he was basically cast out of his own home. There seemed to be a connection with the growing number of people; they had their own disagreements with the king and his army. They were making their home, living new lives, as I still thought of my own home.

A small frown was placed upon my lips as I thought about my mother whom I have not seen since father and I left for Boston months ago. _And father_… Only a letter was sent to me just one month ago. In his writing, in his language, he told me that he will meet me soon. If only he could be clear with _soon_.

…_Crack_.

Taken out of my thoughts, the grip on my dagger tightened in my hand. I did not dare flinch with the sound of a broken branch. If I were to move my body I would be caught easily within this foliage. I had to slowly move my head to search my surroundings. Sitting still as I saw a rabbit jump through a bush with quick speed, it was then that I knew I was not alone. Something might have scared the creature. A predator perhaps: a wolf maybe or something far bigger? That changed instantly when I heard,

…_Snick_.

_Damn_! Hearing that sound was never comforting. It always sent a chill down my spine making the chase worth it. Quickly, I sprinted from my position on the ground to my feet. Almost stumbling on a fallen branch, I finally found my balance and my vision. _He _already found me in this thick of woods. The snow was long gone and the green was fresh making good use for camouflage. I had to use my hearing in order to find where he was hiding. Panic was not in my nature unless I was caught off guard without so much as protection. My heart was beating fast as my eyes were not looking to the ground below, but up.

_There!_

I threw my dagger at the top of the tree, but it was too late. I saw as his figure leapt down gradually fast with one arm extended out and pulled back. The sun shinned down upon the blade that was exposed. It was a stunningly beautiful weapon but it was deadly none-the-less. _He used the alignment of the sun against me_. I had no time to escape for before I could see clearly, I was pinned to the ground with the blade close to my throat. My hat flew off of my head landing inches from me.

"You truly do not learn from past mistakes." He said almost as if he was boasting his victory. "Your hearing must be lacking or you were too distracted to hear me climb the trees."

I had a smug look underneath my scarf. He was quick, he was silent, and I cursed him every second when he would use the trees as his advantage. All those months of training made me look like an utter failure compared to Connor. It was an unfair tactic, but I could not choose my battles no matter my handicap. It only gave me determination to beat the Native boy. If I was to survive against an opponent stronger than myself, I was to keep training on my faults. It was part of a _deal _my father placed in my part without my knowledge.

"Do not push your granted luck, Connor. I was not distracted." I stated through clenched teeth. The blade was too close for my own comfort. Even if this was only training, one small slip and that blade will go through my flesh quickly. "One day I will catch you off of your guard. You may have been granted with the gift of the trees, but you forget that when I am in my own territory the rules drastically change."

"I am not pressing my luck if I am one to see through stance." He said. "But you are improving. Did you forget about your own victory? We all cannot win every battle unless we try and improve."

I pushed his arm quickly from my neck. The paranoia of such a weapon close to my weak spot was a daunting reminder that this Native boy was a much more formidable foe. Even if I could not swallow my pride in favor of the boy, he was right. I have improved gradually on my own skills. I could fight with a sword, a pistol, and I could throw knives from long distances. I still had much to improve on, but this training with another was in its own sense helping.

Fate has placed me in the hands of an _Assassin_.

Connor and Achilles seemed to have accepted me to be a part of this _world _that I have yet to fully understand. The Native boy knew more about it than I, but even he still had his questions only Achilles had. The older man would say no more about it only to have Connor figure it on his own. This behavior I have seen countless times before. Achilles would do nothing more than pester, bicker, scrutinize the boy about his training and then he would turn his attention to me. I could do nothing more than back down as he lectured me about my own faults. No matter how hard we both trained, it only seemed that the older man wanted us to improve more and more for a far bigger reason.

"True. But every battle has great thinking behind it. There is always a leader, the one who overlooks it all and executes it. Distractions only cause the downfall of a battalion but it can also be of use if one knows how to use it." I stated as I stood up.

"You study for far more hours of the day." He stated.

I shook my head as I began to look for my dagger. It should not have landed far if it hit the ground and I looked to the trees to see if it got itself caught in a branch. Luckily, I found it sticking straight out of the ground. Giving a light chuckle I took it from the ground and placed it back in its holster. The months have passed by slowly, with me helping Connor and Achilles with this land. Despite my sex, I could handle work but there were some things that I could not do on my own.

"Let us head back to the manor. We have trained enough today. My body needs the rest and I am sure you may need to rest. Whatever work is to be done, it could be done once our bodies are well rested and have food in our stomachs." I patted the boy on the shoulder.

"Do you always think of food?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Only if it helps with my studies and energy, than I suppose yes it does."

And then we laughed.

* * *

I sat at the ledge smelling the crisp sea air. _She _smelled wonderful. The moon was bright giving the water below me a beautiful glow. _Her _beauty of the water-rippling and sparkling-splashing against the rocks in this smooth motion to a silent song. In her water's, there is a ship that is being restored to her original state. A beauty of a ship she will be when she is done. Her name: _Aquila_. Sadly, I will not be able to sail away for it was still by the rules of my father that I not go to the seas. Even so, it was not my journey but for Connor's. He was to leave when _she _was ready within the next month. One day I will sail out to sea not as a pirate, but maybe something more. I know that I could not run from a past that I did not live. Somehow, someone will recognize my father in me.

Sighing at the thought of my father, I let my hair loose from its tie, my coat was by my side, and I felt free for this moment in time. Since my stay it was rare for me to come outside by the ledge to enjoy the calming sea. I have been worked bone dry, training alongside Connor, studying, weapons training, and anything that I could do to be of assistance. Even with this beauty of the night, each day was something new or ongoing.

There was change in not only myself but with Connor. The first two months were difficult for the both of us. We would bicker at one another over such little things. Connor found out that I had pirate blood in me. It was not something that I kept quiet, but it seems that Achilles had that urge to say something. He was always so cautious when I would train with him that one day I had the nerve to call him out on it. I was not going to betray or harm anyone because my father trained me. It was not like Connor himself held something back that I did not know. Soon, it turned from a simple argument to an actual fight. If it wasn't for Achilles stepping in, I do not know how it would have ended. _Children _he called us. The older man had a right to say such for in reality we were but children caught in the crossfire of someone's war.

'_Is it our war?_'

After that day, Connor and I made amends. It was unnecessary to fight amongst each other if we are to be allies. It wasn't until a week later that we both wanted to understand each other. There is still a bit of trust that is needed between us, but I could say that we both work well as a team. Even with my _bad blood_, the boy's own was bad as mine.

The first time I heard about assassins was when I was younger and found the broken blade in my father's box. There was a secret war that has been ongoing since the crusades. Connor was part of this war and I was involved. I was no assassin nor will I ever be. No matter, I was told by Achilles that when Connor was much younger his mother was killed and his village was aflame. He mentioned that the men he saw before he was knocked cold were the one's responsible and that his father was responsible. I was surprised that Haytham was in fact Connor's father. The very mention of Haytham and the boy would keep back from wanting to speak ill of his own father. There was no relation between father and son. In fact, Connor disliked the man.

With our mind set on finding the Templar's, the very idea of killing them made my stomach turn over. I was going to kill in order to find answers. The only problem is finding out where do we begin? My only problem was how am I going to find my place in this? Am I part of this untold tale? Does father's connection with the Templar's somehow my burden as well?

'_How does it all tie together_?'

What I did not know was that soon I will find out that answer.


	11. Into deep Waters

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**1773: Martha's Vineyard**

Three years have passed with a never ending trail. The game of cat and mouse continued as Gray eye made the chase _fun _for his own pleasure. No matter how hard Salty Bones tried to catch up to his former captain, the man would leave his trail than disappear into the shadows without so much as leaving a trace. Gray eye wanted to '_play_'with Salty mentally. It was a great advantage for the pirate to play with his prey who-years ago- betrayed him and worked alongside an assassin among his crew. How could he have not known? His own crew turned against him because of Salty Bones and Campbell. Pure mutiny on a ship of pirates was unheard of and yet legend states that such a crime can happen. Pirates were mocked, feared, fighters, and all else they were in stories.

'_They do not know the true nature of pirates_.'

Thinking no more of his next move, the ale that was in front of the older pirate was nothing more than a relief. With the years passing and his crew waiting for word to set sail into the open sea, Gray eye looked to a set of newcomers entering inside. An older man-a sailor by the way he was dressed- and a Native boy older than sixteen. The boy took a glance towards the pirate, which in return the pirate only scuffed his shoulders. There was no threat coming from the boy once he turned away from the pirate. How humorous it was to see a Native trying to gain sea legs from a sailor who looked to have been lost for many years. _Strange, _but in an age of exploration even the weak and bold want to see what is beyond their land.

No longer caring for observation on the newcomers, Gray eye focused on his ale. The pirate was all too eager to set sail with his recovered beloved ship, _Ghost of Davy Jones_. There was no love that could compare for a man who spent his life sailing the seas. Not even the love of a woman could be compared for Gray Eye never married. Only whores were his need in case he felt that he needed _human _companionship.

"Where is Charles Lee?" The Native boy asked two strangers.

Gray eye's dead eye focused intently on the Native boy with caution. Even if the eye could not see, there was something about the way his eye would make those who stare shudder in despair as if that person was small and insignificant in front of the pirate. These _sailors _were not aware at all that a pirate that is most feared and thought to be long dead was sitting at a table drinking ale. If only they knew. If only Gray eye could stand and show these sea puppies what it means to fight. The Native boy wanted the location of Charles Lee for what reason? It could only lead to revenge. Gray eye has had enough of an encounter with the Templar to a certain point that even they were becoming all too worrisome about the pirate. Betrayal was below for Gray eye.

'_I wonder how this will play out_.' He thought to himself.

Such musings were very rare to come by. As the scene was unfolding with tense air it was stopped by a woman who asked the men to leave. Curious as to whom these men were- all else the boy- Gray eye stood from his seat to follow leaving his unfinished pitcher of ale on the table. Walking pass the two men who have yet to leave, stared intently at the pirate. The look of anger bestowed upon their faces, Gray eye saw no threat from such men. The one with the worn out wig stood back almost suddenly as he looked into the dead eye. The other man looked grim but said no word as he let the pirate pass by without much of a word.

"…Captain." Upon hearing his title Gray eye stopped but a few yards from the door as one of his crew member's walked in a fast pace towards him. Closing his eye lid over the dead eye, the pirate placed his hands behind his back. Clearly, the men he sought have disappeared from out of his sight. Such a pity to have lost such _interesting _people.

"Is _She_ ready to sail, Elliot?" Gray eye spoke sternly to the man about his ship.

"Yes, sir. She is ready for sail. The rest of the crew gathered more supplies and gun powder." Elliot spoke with a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

"Then let us set sail."

* * *

It was beyond quiet setting sail in the sea. The sun was setting in the horizon with the gulls flying to and fro catching the wind through their feathers. Even the fish below were calmly swimming in the waters of the lovely sea until something disturbed them. With the waves crashing against _Ghost of Davy Jones_, Gray eye watched as smoke filled the sea air. In a faraway distance, the sound of cannon fire echoed catching his crew's utter-most attention quickly. A grim grin found its way to the older pirate who turned the wheel heading in the direction of fire and smoke.

"Man your stations, sea dogs. I hear the sound of a battle!" Gray eye shouted. "Be prepared in case of retaliation from our enemy."

Elliot took his place above deck, quickly dashing by his captain's side to the side of the ship. Taking out his scope from within his ragged knee-length coat, further away ships were fighting each other. Cannon fire burned bright in the darkened sky. There was no doubt the ships belonged to British navels attacking at an enemy vessel. _Whose _vessel was it? The man could not say for they needed to be closer in order to get any recognition of the ship. A beauty of a ship _She _was, but even the ship could not compare to _Ghost of Davy Jones_. A legend this ghost ship is; it is anything but mere stories told by the fearful.

"What do your eyes see?" Gray eye asked his second mate.

"English ships firing upon… My eyes do not deceive me: the _Aquila_." Elliot snapped close his scope with a satisfied smile.

"You know such a ship?" His captain asked with a raised brow.

"Aye, I do sir. The last I heard of her, she has not sailed in many awhile. It would seem that many legendary ships are once more sailing these seas. What does it mean I wonder?" Elliot stated placing his hand on his chin.

'_I know exactly what this means._'

As the pirate ship drew closer, the battle on the sea grew farther and farther away. Smoke filled the air as sunken or sinking ships were drowning in the sea water. Bodies of the dead or dying English sailors drifted away into their watery grave. Gray eye saw this as-not pity- as a formal funeral for those who have lived by the ways of the sea. The pirate captain could not muster a solitude smile but a fine line upon his lips. Somewhere down below Davy Jones is dragging away the souls of the damned. Still, the cannon fire was booming in the distance. As fast as the pirate ship was, the smoke and the night sky made Gray eye weary. There was no chance that the pirates will catch the other ship for the night sky was not so clear. The moon was not bright on this night and the stars were not shining bright for the thick smoke of burning ships was blocking any form of view.

Only dark shadows and the sound of the waves crashing against the ship kept all on alert.

* * *

Black eyes were cautious, but the hunger that it felt was driving away at its instinct. Alone in the woods did it feed upon the fresh grass unaware that I was drawing in close. Skittish by nature, cautious by instinct, its ear's listened to the sound of other animals foresting some yards away. Today was going to be the day that I kill this buck. As close as I could get to the buck something startled it causing the buck to raise its head in a quick motion. One ear flicked to the side as its mouth kept chewing. I was cautious with my own movements and with my scent covered I prayed that the animal did not see me or caught a whiff of my scent.

'_Come on. Come on._' I thought to myself. My eyes were kept stern on what was mine. Two weeks in this forest tracking down this buck. It taunted me at every angle, every small chance it got. He was going to be mine.

The buck kept its head up for a few moments before returning to graze. Its tail flicked and its strong long legs moved with such grace. Slowly I walked closer with my rifle raised. The butt of my weapon pressed against my shoulder, I waited for that perfect moment to shoot the animal. If I missed the shot than the buck will once more elude me making this hunt harder than it already was. Breathing in slowly to fill my lungs with the smell of forest green, my eyes were focused intently and my finger grazed the trigger.

My heart slowed its pace. It felt as if the only ones in the forest were the buck and I. Within sight I had to shot the animal in the head or in the heart. One… Two… Three… Breathing out and holding steady to the rifle I pulled the trigger. The force of the rifle pulled me back and the echo caused birds to fly from their trees. Anything that was within shot scurried fast away from the danger as I waited for my chance to move myself from my position. The buck was down. I assumed that it was dead.

Walking towards my prize win I noticed that my shot was direct. With a smile to myself I examined this creature. Beautiful color to its fur and its antlers were most prized to hunters. This buck was in good health which meant its meat was very rich. I have killed many bucks of fair size, but this buck was by far the biggest. The one that got away, I always said. This beauty knew my scent and always avoided me at all cost.

Placing my rifle by the buck's side I pulled out the rope from within my pack that I carried. Skinning was never an easy process out here in the forest. Wolves and other predators might be lurking about waiting to get their fangs on my prize. Wolves are pack animals that hunt with strategic knowledge. If an opportunity presents itself such as my downed buck, they will not hesitate to steal it with my back turned. I was prepared to defend what was mine. I worked too hard to find this buck. Taking off my coat and rolling my sleeves to my elbows, I was in for a long skinning process. It takes focus to skin an animal. One small mistake can ruin its value for sale and eating. With focus I also had to mind myself in the open.

'_Damn wolves_.' I thought as I began to tie the hind legs of my buck with the rope.

I thought back to my first hunt with Connor. It ended with failure and me falling in cold water while the boy himself caught the rabbit that I was trying to hunt with ease. It started with small game for the first months and then once I found my muse, I learned to use a rifle at a long range hunt. It was also a way of me learning to stalk at a great distance without having my target notice me. My footing has improved along with my vision. I could be of use for a marksman if it came to it but the thought of killing a human was enough to stop me from pulling the trigger. I was not sure if I was ready.

I was not so sure if I could handle it mentally. Killing a man if need be. Only time would tell if I would pull through with it.

By the time I was finished with skinning my prize, I left the corpse where it was for any scavenger to feed upon it. Walking back to my camp with the buck's skin and meat within my pack or over my other shoulder, and my rifle in one hand I was ready to head to the manor.

* * *

My body and mind were exhausted once I entered inside of the manor. These past three years have been working me dry. Gaining muscles in places I was not aware that could be of use; I was becoming more than just a daughter of a pirate. I grew fit with my appeal changing. I had to downsize my clothing to better suite movement but not expose my _feminine_ features. If father could see me now he would not be amused with my change. I have been receiving letters from him stating that we would meet. Even after the years I was improving on my writing but not to a full extent to send a letter. I asked father what has become of mother. He wrote to me that she is staying with my grandfather for the time being.

Letting out a sigh, it was quiet within the manor but I saw nothing more to it as the old man wanted quiet. Sweating and smelling of deer blood, I was happy with today's victory. It would fill my stomach for the next few weeks. Such a prize would make any hunter prideful of their skill of the hunt. I was filled with much happiness that I kept smiling at my win. I only hoped that my happiness would not be taken from me.

'_Knowing the old man, he would pick me up with phrase only to drop me on the ground with some mistake_.'

Walking to the kitchen I noticed that Achilles was nowhere to be found. I did not hear him walking about or sitting by a window looking out into the distance. He would usually bother me with something that needed to be done around the area or within the manor. Placing my prize win on the table, and taking off my hat and coat, I heard a set of footsteps coming from the basement.

"Once upon a time, we had a ceremony on such occasions. But I don't think either of us are really the type for that." I heard Achilles say. "You've your hands and tools. Your targets and goals. And now you have your title. Welcome to the Brotherhood, Connor."

Rounding the corner did the two begin to notice my existence as they set their eyes upon me covered in the blood of my prize. Blood stained my right shoulder, soaking deep within the fabric. _I am going to need a nice wash_. I thought to myself but only for a moment. I was not aware that Connor would be home from his voyage but I was glad that the boy made it home.

"I was not expecting you to be home, Connor." I said with a smile on my face. "Ah, but where are my manners? Congratulations. _You will achieve a great pride for not your land, but for your people_." With open arms I walked towards the Native boy. Embracing him tightly I let go within a couple of seconds. Knowing that he was not so used to having a female- let alone anyone touch him in an affectionate manner- I was feeling the need to show the boy that I cared for him. The look upon his face was a feeling of awkwardness.

"I assume you have had a great voyage across the waters?" The boy only nodded at my words. "It has been but almost three years, Connor. Are you not used to my presence as a female?"

"The boy has cold feet when he gets affection from any female. Where were you?" Achilles stated poking me in the side with his walking stick. "I pray that the blood on you is not yours."

"Found the buck that has been eluding me for some time. I killed him some hours ago a few miles out. Brought home a win that even the great hunter's will see him as a prize." I was boosted with confidence as I backed away from the older man.

"You killed a buck?" Connor asked out of curiosity.

"I did learn from the best, did I not, eh mentor?" I patted the boy's shoulder with a chuckle.

Achilles shook his head at my _childish _manner. Tensing slightly at the disappointment that the older man had for me, I turned my back to him. More-so I was not to deal with a boorish man who saw no value in my prize. It was my first win, my first hunt on my own, it went with success. There truly was no pleasing the older man. Not even Connor could get a rise out of him and Achilles talks down upon the boy constantly over something little. I have to wonder how either of us could put up with such a man, but the older man had his reasons.

Walking away from us, Achilles went to the other room leaving Connor and I to ourselves. I began to tell the boy about my two weeks in the forest searching for the buck. 'He hid from me like the ghost that hides in the shadows of the darkness.' I said. 'I prayed to my God's that I will have the strong instincts like that of the _Tepeyollotl: _lord of animals.' I felt as if I was but a child once more telling my story to a close friend as we sat at the long table in the kitchen. I was reminded of my mother. Her stories of long ago, her stories of her childhood, her stories that kept me entertained as a child were little memories that brought joy to my heart; to my soul.

But not all happiness and smiles last.

* * *

**A/N: **I appreciate those who reviewed my story, added it to their favorite's or alerts, it means so much to know that there are people out there that enjoy what I am writing. I love feedback telling me what it is that I am doing right and what it is that I am doing wrong. It helps with developing the plot of what it is I am trying to achieve with this. But every little small detail helps, so all in all, I thank you.


	12. Shattered piece of Glass

**Bad Blood**

* * *

'_There was a great rumor somewhere in the land of desert of a true treasure that has been lost for many centuries. They say that the people who hold its secret of its location state it belongs to God Himself. A true gift that was once lost due to the Templar's interference many centuries ago, yet, somehow it was brought back to these people. As a young man at that time, I did not care for what it was that they believed belonged to their God or the Templar's. I only lusted after what value it could hold in a time of war. What great nation would want a gift from God? The true value would have made me rich. The desert people knew where this treasure was buried. They knew, but they would not tell. It was sacred to them. They did not want to lose it once more. _

_Campbell: my most trusted friend aboard this ship. He has tried to reason with me on my motives. He was the one who has told me of this treasure and the power it could hold. He wanted me to become captain of this ship after the mutiny. Why? I was not sure of his motivation. He seemed to be contempt with being my second-hand man. Of all the mysterious he holds, there was something that compelled me to know. Campbell only wanted the location of the treasure; not for trade or for himself, but there was something that he was not telling me. He saw this treasure as 'Holy'._

_Like the desert people, he-himself- was holding back the secrets._

_This place that I set aflame: Masyaf.' _

I closed my father's journal thinking of what I read within it. He talked of this treasure-once he became captain of _Ghost of Davy Jones_. I was wondering to myself what my father's motives were at that time. This treasure was from _God Himself _which was something that even I could not believe. Was there even such a thing as a treasure from God; it was not possible? Is this treasure the reason why Gray eye was not looking for revenge on my father? Was it the treasure that drove the men aboard the ship to act against their own captain?

'_I truly do not know my own father_.'

Grabbing the necklace that was secured around my neck, I began to take it off. As it was in my hands, dangling and swaying I placed it on the journal. It held many memories that I was never a part of. It was the only symbol that I held close for most of my life. It always took hold of who I truly was: a mere reminder of my bloodline.

Closing my eyes shut with a growing pain in my head, I let out a low sigh. There were still missing pieces that needed to be found. Then looking back to the journal I remembered father always talking of the massacre. This treasure he speaks of may have had to do with what has happened in his past. Though, I was not sure if it truly did. I knew nothing which was more than frustrating. I grew tired of having to decipher what it was he _is _trying to tell me. Too many secrets withheld in such a small journal that has yet to be solved.

Sighing, I had to remove myself from my own room. If I continued on-wards with my father's words, I feared that I would go mad. The throbbing in my head was doing me no good. It was troubling that I could over-think over something so little, but it was important. This was my father's journal, yet, I felt as if he was leading me to the answer that I seek. _Did it all have to do with this __**treasure**_? Placing my hand on my head the pain grew worse. Clenching my teeth I begged the God's to calm me. Maybe I could be of a bother to the men downstairs to rid myself of this pain. They could take my mind off of the journal for the time being. As of late, Connor has had this obsession with his new achievement of assassin. Shaking my head at the passing days, I could spend the rest of the day in training or practice my marksmanship.

Walking out of my room with some relief to the nauseating pain of my head, I began to hear the sound of knocking from downstairs. All of my thoughts of the pass few moments were gone. Curious as to who was at the door I walked to the stairs. Descending down the steps Connor was the first to answer. He began to talk to his friend, _Kanen'to kon_, about important matters involving their village. I did not want to interrupt their conversation nor did I want to return to my room to _that _journal, but once Connor stepped foot outside to continue I once more had to come to a halt on the steps.

I heard the sound of Achilles walking from one of the rooms towards the entrance of the manor. It would seem that the knocking on the door also caught his attention, if not that, than Connor's rising voice. Stepping down the last of the steps and to the older man's side, the air was all but tense. Keeping my eyes stern to the situation with crossed arms there was more to what was going on. Beside me Achilles was observing more intently; dissecting the conversation before us. If only I could be as obedient in observation as the older man. I guess it came with age, knowledge, and experience.

"We cannot oppose the sachem. But you are right as well. We cannot give up our home." His friend said.

"Do you have a name? Do you know who is responsible?" Connor asked.

"He is called William Johnson."

"Where is Johnson now?"

"In Boston, making preparations for the sale." This is what made Connor angry the most.

"Sale? This is theft."

I took a step forwards to thinking I could try and calm the situation at hand anyway that I could, but I felt Achilles' walking stick poke me at the sides hard. He always used the _damn _thing against me when he believed that I was overstepping my boundary. Not making a sound to the pressure that was at my side, the older man decided on his own to talk.

"Connor, take care. These men are powerful." Achilles warned.

"What would you have me do? I made a promise to my people." Connor was clearly angry. This was the most I have seen the boy show this side. It was off-putting that even I wanted to counter-attack with such vile words for speaking to the old man the way he did. Even if it was not my place to speak on such matters (for I had my own agenda to deal with) I was here to help out my allies. We may have walked different routes, but in the end we would meet somewhere in the middle.

"You are not serious?" I stated with disappointment looking to the assassin. I was not angry. I was trying to understand this situation. "Do you have a plan or are you willing to go alone and handle this situation? I call it a suicide mission. Have you forgotten your training already? You are no good dead if you happen to make a mistake." I continued onwards, walking towards Connor. This made _Kanen'to kon _step forward but Connor looked to him. If he thought me to be a threat for standing my ground and speaking out of term; one thing is always made clear, I was more than just a woman standing up to man. I could think of this as madness: such a sickness that plagues the mind from true intent. I was not going to fight nor was I going to back away.

"This does not concern you, Seliah. These are my people, not yours." Connor spoke pointing his finger at me than placing his arms by his sides. Glaring at him, I was not going to be treated as if I was a child. Even if he was older than me I was not going to back down. This situation was serious; understandable. I still stood as tall in-front of the assassin, waiting to see if he would say anymore. I had enough respect for the boy and his people-even though I did not fully understand their way of life- but respect was enough. "I do not want to hear what you have to say to me."

"_I have held my tongue long enough_." I spoke in my language. "Good men die because they do not see through their own arrogance; their own anger. It blinds them like it is blinding you. At least let my words soak through that complicated head of yours." And once more did I feel the pressure of the older man's stick in my side.

"My own anger is not blinding me." He retorted.

"Enough! Keep that mouth of yours shut, Seliah. Connor, if you insist upon this course of action; seek out Samuel Adams in Boston. He'll be able to help." Achilles spoke keeping his eye on me.

Once more looking to his childhood friend, Connor stretched out his arm knowing full well what he was to do. As if he knew, _Kanen'to kon _gave the assassin a hatchet, which I grew even worried as to what he intended to do with the weapon. Taking a defensive stance in case something was to go wrong, angrily did the boy place the weapon in the pillar. I was too tense to have my thoughts reason with my actions. Only I could think of the worst and hope for the best. The pain of the throbbing in my head could only grow worse, yet I still stood tall in front of the men before me. Even if they could see the annoyance on my face, I was waiting to see how this would play itself out.

People can be unpredictable.

"What have you done?!" The older man spat.

"When my people go to war, a hatchet is buried into a post to signify its start. When the threat is ended, the hatchet is removed." The assassin stated.

"It is like you are trying to bring down the crown by yourself when you know well that there are others who can help." My words only went through the stubborn boy. He only glared at me as I did the same. Fighting amongst each other would not solve a damn thing. "Whatever it is you plan to do with Johnson, let me know. I am here to assist. I trained for a reason and I do not want to be pushed aside for your means."

Lowering my guard to ease the tension in my shoulders, Connor still kept a stern look. He made his decision.

"We will leave within the week. Be ready."

Frustrated at how the situation came to be, I placed my hand on the side of my head. Leaning on the wall with my eyes closed the throbbing pain began to slow down. The pain inside of my head felt as if a hot knife was cutting its way through my skull. Unbearable was the only way to describe it. Unaware that Connor and _Kanen'to kon _have walked away, could I hear Achilles yell out to them.

"You could have used a tree!"

"Sometimes I wonder who is more stubborn, Connor or myself." Opening my eyes, the older man looked to me with little concern. This was unsettling that I shifted under the older man's gaze. "Forgive me for speaking out of term. I was not to expect my day to be this way. Connor is far beyond reason…"

"…what has gotten to you?" He asked. "That mouth of yours needs to know when to keep shut in such matters. That pirate blood inside of you is showing its ugly head, _again_! Learn to control it before I tear out that tongue. If it is not Connor it is you. If it is not you it is Connor. You two butt heads for who is more complicated." Once more, the stick was pushed into my side as he began to walk inside. "…nothing more than children."

As much as I hate the term of being called a child once more, the older man was again right. The way Connor and I were acting was out of… It was out of bound. This was not how we had to act. Connor was angry for many reasons and I only poked him to try and reason. It was a fail on my own part. He has much going through his mind while I had much going through mine. Our friendship could be fine one moment then something will smack it in the face. Placing my hand on my side I had solitude outside with the clouds covering the sun. Hearing the birds in the trees and the winds blowing softly, I looked to the hatchet that was held steady in the pillar. Connor saw what was happening with his people as an act of war. For him, this was personal.

One thing was for sure: it was not my concern.

No matter how many times I have to hear it I was going to help in any way possible. I was not going to let my training go to waste. When Connor returns-whether he likes it or not- I was going to travel with him to Boston. One man cannot do this alone; maybe he could. The boy had to understand that there are others who can help. At this moment we all had to calm our nerves. The air was still too tense. One small slip of the tongue and we would be at each other's throats like savage dogs. The throbbing pain in my head faded away. The thought of the day was going to linger for a few moments longer.

'_We are not acting like children. We are acting like the savage dogs ready for war._'

* * *

**1773: Boston**

There was something that was different about this place. Even though the red coats still patrolled and still had power over the citizens, Salty still kept weary. The citizens were showing more of a backbone. They were not afraid as they once were some three years before when the red coats fired upon the unarmed. It made the former pirate think differently about the people who lived, worked, and even traded here. Every now and again, would patrols go to a random home; knocking on the door ordering for those living inside to pay their dues or else. Some would fight back while others saw no reason.

The people were finally opening their eyes to how they were being treated.

Salty returned to the tavern he was staying in. In his room he felt no comfort. He felt alone, isolated, tired, and worn thin. He has been in Boston for three months waiting for word on the broken blade. Even though Campbell was dead, Salty was unaware that his former crew-mate had a child of his own. Campbell's son has been in hiding for most of his young life, but when the young man's father was killed he sought out Salty. The young boy's name was Oliver and he was now the new blacksmith that Salty could trust with such a weapon as the hidden blade.

It was a beautiful piece of weapon that has not seen the light of day in many years after it was taken. Such a delicate design once it was polished and cleaned to its original state. Salty felt proud that the weapon was restored after paying a good amount of coins for Oliver's hard work for the past three months. The young man was truly talented like his father.

This weapon would be of use if and when he would find Gray eye. The sneaky bastard of a snake has been playing with him for too long. Each trail would grow warm with each step, only to grow cold quickly once Gray eye knew Salty was getting near. There would be weeks without a single trail giving Salty time to rest. Not every waking moment was trying to find his former captain. He trained himself to the fullest of what he was capable of. Time and age slowed him very, but he was still a fighter.

There was a hard knock on the door making Salty jump out of his thoughts. Placing the blade inside of his pack, cautiously the former pirate walked towards the door. He was not expecting visitors or anyone for that matter. But the knocking on the door was becoming faster and once Salty opened the door he saw Oliver. The young boy was sweating, breathing in and out trying to gasp for air, and he was holding a large book in his right hand.

"What are you doing here?" Salty asked the boy.

"I found this going through my father's belongings. I do not know why I have forgotten about this book until you asked me to fix the blade." Oliver said taking in large gulps of breath. He felt as if he were going to collapse on the floor in front of Salty. Seeing the fatigue in the boy, Salty ushered him inside ordering him to take a seat at the desk.

Once seated with the door closed, Oliver placed the book on his lap. His body was shaking slightly, muscles in his legs were burning, but there was a reason why the boy ran from his shop over to the tavern his father's longtime friend was renting. Hearing the boots of Salty walking closer to him the boy's tired brown eyes looked to the stern former pirate.

"What book do you possess?" He asked calmly.

"The _Holy Bible_. I thought nothing of it until I realized it was not the actual book. Inside I found many documents going back to the time of the crusades. Father has always kept this secret and somehow when he found you, when he knew about your family lineage, I had to give this to you." The boy's fingers were twitching on the old dusted cover.

With a raised brow Salty took the book from the boy's twitching hands. His palms were sweating leaving sweat marks on it. Inside the dusted fake book were indeed loads of many documents. Neatly stacked on top of each other; ready to fall apart when touched, stained rather badly. Salty was not so sure how he was going to handle these rare documents without trying to ruin them. He was fascinated, yet he wanted to know how and why Campbell could keep track of _his _family lineage. Then again, he was an assassin for most of his life until his death.

"Is there something about my lineage that I should be aware of?" Salty placed on hand in the book to grab a document. There was a sense of confusion when he saw what was inside. There was writing in another language that he was not so familiar with: _French_.

"That was something I have come to ask myself many a_time_. The Brotherhood holds many secrets like the Templar's, but this is something that the assassins have been keeping their eyes on for almost six-hundred years. They are trying to reclaim the treasure that was lost in the war. The assassins have been finding great descendants of Templar's. Your family was unfortunate to have been descendants of Robert de Sable: Grand Master of the knights Templar during the crusades."

Salty's eyes looked quickly to the boy. "You are solely mistaken, boy. I have no lineage with the Templar's nor will I ever accept it. My family would have shared that secret with me. They would have told me before I left to sail the seas as a common seaman. It would take years to keep record of such things."

Oliver could see that this was affecting Salty in a negative way. From the stories Campbell told to him was that Salty had no respect for the Templar's. He despised them with every fiber of his soul. Any chance that he could, the former pirate would attack _supposed _Templar ships. Salty was known to kill without hesitation making him the most fear of pirates. Today, this was something different. This was not the pirate that sailed the seas as a captain of _Ghost of Davy Jones_.

"I am afraid it is true. Whether you believe me or not, your family lineage starts with de Sable. The names may have changed due to marriage, growing families, and politics of de Sable's children and grandchildren in the European lands, but father had an interest in you when you became a pirate. It takes years to keep documents of family lineage, but those following de Sable's bloodline kept such a record."

"I will not let myself believe that I had a Templar in my family. I will not say I have some of his tainted blood in me."

"It was more than six-hundred years ago, times have changed since then. The Brotherhood is looking for the lost treasure that was taken by the Templar Knights after the war ended. It has been centuries with the assassins dealing with other matters such as politics, land development, and treaties; there are a few assassins that are charged with searching for that lost treasure. They have been searching for the descendants in hopes they hold the answers. Your ancestor took the most precious of them all. When I say the most precious I mean by God himself. That is why my father has been by your side until his death."

Salty placed the document inside of the book. Closing it roughly and throwing it to the boy, the former pirate did not want to hear anymore. This was not of importance to him nor will it ever be. Robert de Sable was not his ancestor. _That_ Templar will never be his ancestor. However, the memories of long past flashed in his mind. The phrase _God Himself _was all too familiar. _Could this be the same treasure that I once looked for many years ago_? He asked himself. _No! It cannot be possible. The desert people may have known where it lay but…_

"Do not call him my ancestor! I have nothing but distaste to the Templar's. What the Templar's did with the treasure is none of my concern." He said harshly.

"But you do not understand Salty. When my father persuade Gray eye before his death, not only was the pirate looking for the ship, but he was also looking for the treasure he sought for many years. I am not aware of his knowledge of your family bloodline, Salty. Gray eye will stop at nothing until he finds it. He is leading you into a wild goose chase but you know that he is planning something dealing with you. It is not revenge he wants; he wants you to reveal the location."

Salty stood still. The walls that were once built strong in his memory were beginning to crack. His past was no longer going to keep hold behind a stone wall. The former pirate was not going to accept a Templar into his family bloodline. Salty had to lie once more. He knew the true location. He knew where the treasure hid. If it was not for the massacre, Salty would have found the treasure. If these documents are proven to be right Gray eye was not going to get them.

"You are wasting your time on me for I will not accept this suppose truth. Years ago I sought the treasure only to kill those who knew the true location. The old man that I took the blade from muttered in his dying breath to me of the location, but I am not sure if the documents that are within the book are one in the same. Gray eye is only looking for ghosts that have been long dead. Your father told you many things about his life, but I am afraid that I am wasting your time."

Oliver was defeated. Salty was what his father always said that he was: stubborn. Even with the facts that were presented in front of him the former pirate could not accept it.

"Please reconsider your motives for Gray eye. He is only waiting for the right opportunity to strike when your guard is down." Oliver said.

"I have made my choice long ago when I found he was still alive. Let me rest for a little while longer, Oliver. I thank you for what you are doing. Your father was one of my best friends; the only person I considered a true friend. I will not accept what was said to me. Go home."


	13. Stubborn Little Fools

**Bad Blood**

* * *

I did not tighten the wrap on my chest binding my breasts. Taking in a deep breath, I had to be certain that I could breathe. Placing my arms above my head I did a regular inspection to see if there were any loose ends, if my wrap would slip, anything that could expose me. It was a custom that I have learned to live with if I was to survive in a world of men. I began binding my breast when I was about to develop under the scrutiny of my father. It was a painful uncomfortable process and it still is to this day. It was not every day I would tighten my wraps. The shirts that I would wear were loose enough to let me keep my wraps from tightening around my chest. I also wore a vest over my shirt which clung to me; as long as I had room to breathe and movement, I had no need to worry.

'_I could only wonder how long I could keep with this disguise._' I thought to myself as I put on my knee-length coat. '_Someday I am going to have to act like a proper woman without having to keep with this tomboyish figure._'

Once I was done with dressing into my attire, my hair was not tied behind my head. I let it fall freely behind me as a strand or two fell in front of my face. Even if I had no status in this society, I considered my hair to be who I was: a female. It was my pride; it was something that I have cherished like so many other young girls and women. For a little while longer I will let my hair sway with every movement that I made. I would place it in its tie once Connor and I were to leave to Boston.

Packing the essentials that I would need for the journey, I was nearing the finish. Hearing a knock on the door I walked towards it to see that Connor was checking to see if I was close to finishing. The week itself came and went without either of use uttering so much as a mere conversation about little things to pass the time.

There was also a new addition to our small community: a hunter by the name of Myriam. She was a good woman from what I could see. Once she began to settle herself here, it went back to me and Connor keeping our distance from one another hoping that the tense air would disappear. It was not so much as being angry with each other, but it was more-so trying to figure out where we both stood in the situation that was to be presented to us. Even so, we could not let it get the better of us.

"I am almost finished." I stated bluntly leaning against the door frame, holding onto the doorknob.

"May I come in or would you rather close the door in my face?"

'_That could be arranged_.' I thought to myself, but kept myself from doing so. I was no prude.

There was a ghost of a smile placed upon my lips. Not saying much but a curt nod, I opened the door wider to allow the assassin to enter into my very own _domain_. Busying myself with a distraction I pushed myself from the door frame; walking to the desk I took my father's journal into my hands. The old writings of my father kept solemnly in my hands. Keeping my eyes to the ground as I walked to my bed to place the journal into my pack, I noticed that Connor was shifting uncomfortably with this awkward silence wanting to say what was on his mind.

"You are stubborn, did you not know?" I asked tying the knots of my pack tight. Picking it up with a simple shake, what was inside of my pack stirred as my small weapons clanged against one another. Satisfied with it, I placed it on-top of my bed once more. "One moment we could be civil and the next we could be at each other's throats like savage dogs. It is but a confusing matter."

"…and you are any less stubborn than I with a mouth that could get you into enough trouble to last you many lifetimes. As far as I know, _that _is not so civil. Even if you do not agree with what I have to say or what I do, do not speak as if you know what is best for my benefit."

"Is this why you are in my presence? To argue further about how _I_ am stubborn and how _I _disagree with you on every small we should clear the air between us or would you rather journey to Boston in silence?" I asked, walking forwards towards him poking my finger on his chest over and over again.

"What do you have against what I am trying to do for my people?" Placing his hand on my wrist, putting pressure to get me to stop my action I struggled to free my wrist from his grasp. _Damn him for being stronger_. He was looking down upon me, trying to make me feel small. No matter, I pushed him against the wall bringing me with him. This was not an act of anger, but it was frustration that I was feeling. One way or another I was going to make him understand. "If it bothers you so, do not come with me to Boston. The journey would be less of a chore without you."

"I have nothing against you protecting your people. I would do the same, act as if there was a threat, just to make sure my loved ones do not get hurt. I find it to be an honor that you protect those you love. You would do anything to protect them from the vermin of this world. I only want to understand why you believe _you _have to deal with this alone. I only want to aide because we are allies. Please do not make me say this once again. We are allies, treat me as such. No one wants to fight an army alone unless they are ready to die."

He was silent thinking things through. Not only have I placed us both in a _position _that I was soon going to regret, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. This was not supposed to happen, but it did and the assassin let me back him against a wall. I could not even look him in the eye. Have those three years of awkwardness finally dissipate only to leave us to succumb with emotion? His grasp on my wrist loosened. I pulled away from the assassin not wanting to be any closer than I already was. _This was not real_. I repeated in my mind. _This was not real_.

Turning my back to Connor, I walked back to my bed with my hand grasping the necklace around my neck. I prayed to the Gods to forgive me for acting as such. Once done, I grabbed the tie that was placed upon the bed; I began to tie back my hair. Glancing back for a brief moment, Connor kept his stare on me before turning away. I almost chuckled at the thought of Achilles walking in on us. I could not imagine what the older man would have done. In fact I would not want to imagine it at all.

"We will leave within the hour." Connor said clearing his throat.

Looking back to him, I nodded in understanding.

'_This was going to be a long journey_.'

* * *

_Blood. There was much blood. Bodies. There were too many bodies. _

_Children of __Adam__ and __Eve__…_

_They took the __treasure__ from us…_

_The fire spread from home to home, burning anything and everything in its destructive path. Those that were still alive tried to run for shelter but the pirates were ruthless in their destination. No one was to be kept alive no matter if they were men, women, or child. This once great fortress was a legend only to crumble into a shadow of its once former glory._

_Opening the great doors where at one point in time was filled with scholars, books, and above all: __assassins__. Many centuries later, the only sign of assassins was held in the symbols throughout the fortress. What is left of this place was quiet. Not a living soul but that of the sound of wind blowing through cracks in the walls. Book shelves were no longer recognizable due to time. Scattered boards and rotten wood with cobwebs and collecting dust, nothing here was of any value. The smell was enough to nauseate the senses._

_They say one assassin still thrives within the old crumbled fortress. They say he is an old man. The village itself says many things. No matter, Salty was going to get the answers he seeks from the elder that still lives inside, living off old memories. He walked up the steps with his sword held tight in his hand. Boots crunched the stones below him. His eyes were not observant of this place. There was no danger. There was nothing. The more he walked he knew he would find the old man standing by a broken window with hands behind his back._

"_You seek to pillage destruction upon this once great place of my ancestors." He spoke in his native tongue of Arabic._

"_I do not understand a word you say, old man." Salty spoke in Spanish._

"_A Spanish speaker has come to this land?" The older man turned himself to face Salty. Gray eyes looked to a youthful man that was dressed differently than he. "A Spanish pirate, I suppose."_

"_At least I can understand what you say. Tell me, old man, where is it?" Salty had no time for civil conversation with the man's village burning to the ground. Soon it will turn to ash with the smell of burning wood and flesh. "Where is the treasure of God?!"_

"_If I told you of its location, you would not believe me young man. They took the treasure over the sea to a land that has yet to be tainted by man. A small island ruled by wolves and birds. Even God Himself would not dare touch the land."_

"_Tell me the location and I might spare your miserable life."_

"_Why spare me? I am old. I lived with blood on my hands. You should kill me and maybe with my dying breath I will reveal the revelation of what true power the treasure brings." There was pleading in the older man's eyes. _

He awoke with a sharp intake of breath. Sweat rolled down his forehead as inside of his chest, his heart beat fast. Falling asleep in a dream of longs past, Salty has not had the dream of that day in so long. Sighing lightly he sat up on the bed, looking around in his room. There was little light coming from the window as the sun was just rising. His eyes than settled on the desk were the book sits with its cover old and weathered with the color of a different shade.

He has not touched the book since it was given to him by Oliver just a few days prior. He was not afraid, he was not curious of the documents that were within the book. He only wanted it to burn in a fire where it would do no harm. Collecting dust as it had for many years, the book was poison. Salty would not dare say that Robert de Sable was his ancestor. How could such be true if there truly was no proof? Documents could be forged and made as if were old.

Pinching the bridge of his nose for over-thinking such a thing would drive him mad. There was much on his mind as it was. The dream was only a bad memory of his foolish pride. Regret came and went as he tried to get the image of the old man from his mind. Salty could not find a way to deal with this new information that was presented to him just a few hours prior. There was too much to accept, too much to throw away, too much to hide from the world around him. No one could know about these documents.

'_Seliah cannot know about this. I cannot tell my own love. My family cannot know until I am buried six feet below the ground. The assassins… I have to present these to Achilles._' He thought to himself.

* * *

"Would you happen to know of a man by the name of Samuel Adams?" Connor asked a shop keeper.

"Who is asking?" The older shop keeper asked. He was a very plump man who was balding due to his age. Looking to the assassin than glaring at me, he leaned against the counter. I prayed that this man had the answer we have been seeking.

It has been more than four hours since we began our search for Mister Adams. I could have never imagined how hard it was to find one simple man. When was anything so simple for us? Boston was a large place for one man to get lost in a crowd. It was evident- not only on our faces, but our body language- that both Connor and I were becoming agitated with asking local shop keepers were we could find Mister Adams. On occasion I would speak, but Connor did most of the talking. I could not keep my male voice-as I like to call it- without my throat burning and feeling scratchy. It was a burden to have to act as a mute.

Leaning back against the wall of loose knickknacks and the smell of fresh spice, I crossed my arms over my chest. I listened as the shop keeper gave us the only lead we had all morning. Satisfied with our only source of information I pushed myself off the wall. Walking out of the shop with Connor behind me we headed towards the harbor.

I took a side glance to the assassin beside me. Walking tall with the hood shaped of an eagle's beak I came to realize that I cared more for this person. What it was, I was not so sure on what. I cared for people like my mother and father, but Connor only made my mind fuzzy with understanding. It was very foreign to me for I never felt something such as this nameless emotion. I could only wonder if he might have thought the same, but I could not let it cloud my mind. We were here on a task which _I _should be focused on. Silly thoughts would only jeopardize this mission. It would also kill me if I kept thinking this way.

It did not take us long to reach the harbor. Full of life and the beauty of ships kept my mind focused. Memories of lazy days flooded to me. I as a child looking at the sea wondering what was beyond all that I thought I knew. My father sitting by my side as we were engulfed in comfortable silence. The sounds of the waves crashing against the pillars, rocking the ships in a swaying dance, I was not aware of my surroundings as I bumped into Connor. _Damn_! Catching myself before I fell to the ground, the assassin looked to me than focused ahead to three men talking among each other.

Of the men was Samuel Adams.

Walking towards them, Mister Adams had a smile upon his face once he saw us.

"Hello again! What brings you to Boston?" He said in a cheerful manner. I was going to speak but the assassin next to me was the first to make the move.

"You." Connor spoke directly.

The smile that was placed on Mister Adams face quickly faded into a thin line. It was a bit unsettling for me to see how quickly things could change. _Everything seems to be changing_.

"Would you excuse us fellows." Mister Adams turned himself to the two men he was talking to just a few moments ago. Both of the men looked to both Connor and I with suspicion as Mister Adams turned himself and placed a hand on Connor's shoulder. They did not seem all too happy to have to have their conversation cut short because of two strangers. I did not like the look they were giving off nor was their stance anything to welcome. I have seen enough shady men to last me a lifetime.

"I do not suppose those two are friends of yours?" I asked with a raised brow.

"They are anything but friends, but I thank you. That conversation was about to turn _unpleasant_. Now, what can I do you for?" Mister Adams spoke not looking back to the two men. I did nothing more than shake my head with some amusement. This man only gets interesting with every meet.

"I was hoping you could help me locate William Johnson." Connor spoke after we were some distance away from the harbor.

'_Not this conversation_.' I thought with a dreadful sigh.

"Always to the point (_eh_) Connor." I said shaking my head.

"Do not start this again, Seliah." Connor warned with a side glance to me. "Why do you act stubborn? We are here for a reason…"

"… and I thought we were doing well with this_ situation_. I will let you continue since you are in much of a hurry." I stated with a bit of distaste in my voice. I knew this conversation was going to raise its head the moment we found Mister Adams, but despite my own stubborn nature I apologized for my rashness.

Mister Adams looked to both of us with some bitter amusement. Raised brows and questioning eyes. No doubt questioning to himself about why we both suddenly began to show how tense we were. Slowly he began to talk once more to ease the tense air between us.

"…Of course. I'm headed to a meeting with some men who should be able to help. Why don't you two come along; if I am not intruding in this lover's quarrel of yours?"

Hearing such words coming from Mister Adams, both Connor and I kept our mouths closed for there was nothing to say to such a thing. The image of what has happened a few days before our leave to Boston came to my mind.

"Let us continue." I quickly walked past Connor, placing my hand on my hat lowering it to try and cover the embarrassment that I felt. Surely, I could not let this get the better of me for it was simple observation Mister Adams was making. Nothing more than me being the stubborn fool that I am, I could kick myself.

"Is she always like this?" Mister Adams asked Connor.

"She means well, I assure you." The older man placed his hand once more on Connor's shoulder with a smirk. Not knowing the gesture behind the smirk, the assassin let it pass.

* * *

Walking through the street keeping my safe distance from either man, I noticed the people in Boston had this profound _freedom_. Some years ago I would have dreaded coming to such a place, but after what has happened, there was something different. I looked to shop keepers as they stared back at me giving me a wave or gave me a quick nod. So much could change in three years after something devastating as the massacre. It has opened the eyes of the people. It has opened the eyes of the soldier's that patrolled these streets.

Freedom was still a long's way to gain if _we_ as people wanted to break from the crown. Sometimes, it is easy to forget why anyone would want to fight. It is always easy to forget why anyone would want to stand against the king and his army. Even if I had more on my mind to bear with issues that could be solved, these people had the weight of their own.

"It's good to see the people finally taking a stand against injustice…" Mister Adams spoke.

"Says the man who owns a slave." Connor stated with distaste.

"Who, Surry? I practice what I preach, my friend. She's not a slave, but a freed woman… At least on paper. Men's minds are not so easily turned. It is a tragedy that for all our progress, still we cling to such barbarism."

_Children of Adam and Eve…_

_They took it from us…_

_They took the treasure of God…_

The throbbing pain in my head has come back unexpectedly. It became worse as I was hearing sounds of whispers. The conversation between Connor and Mister Adams was fading. The voices of these beings (_?_) were speaking too fast for me to understand any further. I was not aware of my surroundings as the buildings became a blur and the people walked at a slower pace. My ears were ringing from this painful screech as I could hear the blood in my body flow through my veins. The whispers became louder telling me about the treasure of God. They were speaking in a tongue that I did not understand. It was not a language I knew. Then it was gone.

'_What happened_?' I thought to myself looking to the sky for a brief moment.

All that was around me was now at its normal state. Nothing was blurred and the people were walking at their normal pace. Whatever happened was now gone without question. The throbbing in my head was gone. There was no explanation as to what just happened. I have never encountered such an immense pain in my head before. I have never heard whispers such as the ones of a few moments pass. It was than did I come to realized I had stopped walking. All was reality. It seemed to happen quickly as Connor and Mister Adams where now by my side; not knowing or even aware of what has occurred to me.

I sighed quietly as my mind was focused on something other than the harsh whispers. This day was taking its toll on not only my body but it was affecting my mind. I have no answer as to why I was acting… _different_. Was it the stress? Was it something more? I would have to question it some other time. As of now I had to be focused on the task at hand. The three of us looked on to red coats surrounding a building and an angry man sticking half of his body out of the top window.

'_This day is full of surprises._'

"Hey, it's my home no matter what you thieves called '_taxmen_' say! If the gumps in Parliament who want my property, you tell them to sail across the pond and take it themselves!"

"It's not open for discussion! Now open this door or these men will break it down!"

With this threat of taking the man's home from him, the man himself poured his own piss at the man at his doorstep. I cringed a bit at the disgusting manner, but I had to hand it to the man, he was not afraid of the red coats. This is what made the people fearless. These are the people who can stand against the crown.

"Bullocks! We're coming in!" One of the red coats said raising his rifle to shatter the window.

Without our knowing, the man ran out of the door. It swung open quickly as he ran into the taxman, causing both to fall off the steps. This day can only become interesting. This one man was to fight a patrol of highly trained soldier's on his own? He could get killed and maybe bring one of the soldier's with him without a care.

"I trust the mounting evidence is proof enough, Connor." Mister Adam's stated. "You see it too, do you not Seliah?" Looking to the older man with some question; there was a hint of a spark in his eyes. He wants us to help the man. He did not need to say it, but looking at the gathering crowd they were going to not be of any help. This was the distraction that was needed after a turn of events of the day. This was my distraction from my own thoughts.

'_I feel like a child once more_.'

Without hesitation, I walked towards the red coats with one who held his rifle close to the man. The other patrol surrounded him, ready to beat him which the man was not so willing to back down. Placing my finger's in my mouth I whistled loudly grabbing the attention of the soldier's. In that instant the man hit one of the red coats over the head.

Staggering back from the pain, the soldier turned quickly hitting the man in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. Grunting as he held onto his stomach I ran towards the soldier with my dagger in hand. The other soldier's mounted for an attack only to have Connor join in on the street fight. As I drew close, the soldier looked to me and pointed the end of his rifle towards me which I deflected with my dagger. I was not going to kill this man I was only going to knock him cold.

With my dagger skidding off the rifle, my free hand grabbed the weapon tightly. Hearing Connor and the man fighting the other soldiers, I could see from the corner of my eyes another red coat coming towards me. Using this red coat's weight against him, I pushed him back quickly disarming the man. I swung the weapon hitting the soldier in the head. He fell with a loud thud and a groan. I assumed he was unconscious with the way he landed to the ground. Either way, the soldier did not move or stood back to his feet.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to see the second red coat charging at me with his rifle. The bayonet that was attached to the tip was my only focus for I did not want to get myself stabbed. Using my stolen weapon for defense, I took a step forwards making contact with my enemy. With one hand he threw a right hook causing me to take an inch back from the blow. My hat almost flew off of my head, but I thank the God's that it did not. Using this mere distraction, the soldier pulled back his rifle keeping the bayonet leveled at my stomach.

He began to push forwards with the rifle as I took a few steps back to get out of the bayonet's deadly path. Turning on the heel of my boot I used my left arm to lower the red coat's weapon and out of the way of the deadly bayonet. With my other hand, I swung my rifle hitting its mark to the man's back.

He yelled in pain, which I quickly went to the back of him to kick him in the legs. He fell to the ground just a few feet away from his comrade. Walking towards his body I used the butt of the rifle to hit him on the head, rendering him unconscious. Taking a deep breath I looked to see if Connor and the man were faring well in their fight. Bodies of the red coats either dead-mostly dead- lay on the street as people cheered on in our struggle. Most of the citizens were phrasing this behavior while others ran screaming for help. I discarded the weapon in my hands.

Running to Connor's side I could clearly see the blood on his sleeves and hands. _The blood of the English soldiers, no doubt_. The assassin had not a scratch on him as far as I could see. Truly, he has grown to be a skilled assassin. A skilled killer: something that I could not be. Catching our breath in an alleyway, I took a glance to the man that we saved. His face was barely visible. There was blood. There was much blood.

"Justice for once. I dare the Governor to send more." He spat.

"You alright?" Connor asked.

"I'm fine. It's not my first dance. For all their teeth and claws these little foxes, they fight like puppies. Thank you both my friends." He gave Connor a pat on the shoulder and gave me a glance of gratitude which I tipped my hat for the polite gesture.

"You always have the taxman breathing down your neck?" I questioned using the voice of my male counterpart once I looked up. "They seemed to have wanted you dead."

"They can try to kill me but I am too much of a stubborn man to go down without a fight." He stated with pride in his voice and a puff of his chest. I lightly chuckled with a shake of my head at the way this man was presenting himself towards us.

"I know too much of the stubborn type." Connor gave me a side glance warning me to keep from crossing a line. I placed a smirk on my face trying to make light with the situation. "In fact, he is standing right beside me. Am I not right, eh, friend?"

The assassin only glared at me. The playful smirk that was on my face faded and the man seemed to not get the joke.

"I said I'd buy you two an ale but I'm expected somewhere else."

…and with that he went on his merry way. Letting out a sigh I did not dare look to Connor for I have been acting as a fool. He did not need to say anything for me to see my childish manners. Without so much as a word to me, he walked away from me. We could not stay within this area for too long and with the bodies of the red coats still in the street, other patrols will be looking for those responsible.

Some day this turned out to be.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you to those who reviewed my last chapter and placed it on their favorites or alerts. Thank you. Thank you. A milling times thank you. As you can see, this chapter was all over the place. Well, I saw it as such. So much to take in and so much to absorbed. Hope it was to ya'lls liking. :D


	14. How Far We've Come (So Far)

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**1773: Off the coast of the Bahamas**

The boatswain frantically ran as cannons blew through the side of the galleon ship. Men launched themselves to the ground, covering their faces from the projectiles of deadly wood. Most were splintered on the arm while others less unfortunate were blinded instantly after the cannon ball pushed through. One unlucky sailor was made the target of the cannon ball; ripping his body in two. Ropes swayed roughly from their positions, men continued to run above the main deck or were busy finding weapons and ammo for the assault. The boatswain looked to the dead sailor with sympathetic eyes. Sighing deeply, his heart raced once more as cannon fire passed through the side of the ship.

The galleon was a sluggish ship, but _she _was not an easy target. _She _had heavy cannons that could sink a ship, making a direct assault nearly impossible. Still, the boatswain could see much damage done.

_Pirates! _The captain shouted.

Eyes grew wide at the mention of the sea dogs. Of all enemies to be in a sea battle, it had to be against pirates. Leaving the lower deck, the boatswain made it to the main deck to asses if need-be. Chaos ensured when a sailor bumped into him almost causing him to stagger back, but the man kept firm. Sailors were scurrying to their rightful post, dropping sails from the three masts. Looking with squinted eyes, the boatswain could see the pirate ship (a carvel). _She _was a beauty of a ship, but looks of beauty could also be deadly. A carvel ship was fast and with the winds of the Bahamas pushing _her _forwards, all were not going to wait for the pirates to board their ship.

Below the deck the master gunner shouted an order to the seamen manning the cannons. All covered their ears with a safe distance when the cannons fired. Shooting through the air, the pirate ship had a lucky escape. With _her _speed, _she _seemed invincible. The master gunner shouted once more through ringing ears and a hoarse voice, but he was determined to sink his enemy.

Upon closer inspection from the quarter master, he saw the flag of the pirate ship. Quickly, he turned to the captain of the ship with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"_Ghost of Davy Jones_," He said.

As _she _raced forwards, with cannon's aiming and then shooting, Gray eye waited for the perfect opportunity to board. Closer and closer, cannon fire after cannon fire from both sides the casualties of the galleon ship were peaking. The captain of the ship sneered as _Ghost of Davy Jones _made _her _way and slammed into the haul causing the ship to rock and crack under the pressure of the ship that was smaller. Even if the carvel ship made such a big impact, _she _had a reputation of being possessed by Davy Jones himself.

Quickly, pirates raided aboard the ship like locusts. Sailors bared arms, firing their rifles at the intruders. Some went down while others headed for cover above the deck. Sounds of gurgled screams as the ruthless pirates of an infamous ship cut down each and every sailor with their long swords, daggers, or even their own hands. These sailors had no chance as the captain stood above the quarter deck slashing at pirates who taunted him. Gray eye walked the main deck watching as the sailors tried to shoot at him with their pistols or run to him with daggers, but the pirates cut them down before they lay hand on _their _captain.

Blood dripped to the sea water and bodies floated above the water. It was a massacre. Fighting was ceasing to an end with a few sailors left to live, along with the boatswain. Down on their knees with pistols and daggers at their throats no one knew if they were going to live or die by the hands of pirates. Gray eye found the captain holding on to his sword as pirates surrounded him with sneers and grins. He was shaking from fatigue with blood covering his right eye. The sword the captain of the galleon was holding was also shaking. The pirate captain took one step forwards, but the other captain moved forwards with a warning glance to not come any nearer.

"Stay where you are, pirate!" He shouted. "What business do you have with me? If it is treasure you seek, I have none."

"I tire of assumptions of raiding a ship for treasure. It is far from such a thing. I am here for your boatswain." He simply stated looking to his fingernails.

"You attacked my ship for one of my men?!" The captain glared harder to Gray eye, tightening his grip on his sword. With clenched teeth he wanted to put his sword through the pirate's chest. "One pathetic man for the lives of my sailors caused this much damage? _Ghost of Davy Jones_, the infamous pirate ship was thought to be long dead somewhere in the ice."

"Do not believe in stories, you pathetic dog. If you knew how to handle a ship battle you may have sailed away with your tail between your empty legs. Where is your boatswain for he was one of my crew many years before you became captain of this _shite_ ship?" Gray eye mocked with a clever smirk.

"I am here, you son of a bitch!" The boatswain shouted.

Looking to one of the men that were on their knees, the boatswain rose to his feet keeping his eyes to the pirate captain. One of the men that mutinied against their own captain was now standing with determination in his eyes. Gray eye turned his back to the ship captain as the man sneered once more and ran towards the pirate with a loud yell. Elliot ran to the side of the crazed captain. Placing his hand on the man's sword arm with a tight grip, the captain snapped at the pirate but Elliot swung his free hand into the jaw of the man.

With a _tut _, Gray eye was in-front of his former crew member who was now a boatswain. Opening the eye lid to his dead eye, the boatswain flinched seeing the dead eye that haunted those who were about to die by the hands of this infamous pirate.

"I have hunted those who went against their own captain in favor of Salty Bones. I have tracked men such as you (former pirate) who should not have the pleasure of being called pirates at all. Not out of revenge, but for committing the crime of mutiny. A disgrace to pirates of the seas. "

"He was more of a captain than you, but after the massacre he went mad." The boatswain stated. He was not going to plea for his life. He knew the punishment, he committed the crime, it was fair to die for a cause that happened years ago.

"It does not clarify with what you have done. Die with dignity or die like the filthy mutt you are. The last is Salty Bones who I will keep alive for the time being. I know he is hunting me to kill me, but I like to play with my prey. Choose your death as seen fit for a poor bastard such as yourself." Gray eye stared down the boatswain who staggered back, only to be pushed to the deck by one of the pirates.

"Put your sword through my neck, _captain_. Mark my words for Salty Bones will kill you. He should have long ago but he saw you as his mentor. He was loyal to you, but after being poisoned by your own actions, he and those _you _killed revolted to end your madness at sea. Kill me now, _captain_. Kill me and I will wait for you in hell."

…

No one survived. The only remains were the floating bodies and debris as the ship burned. The pirates aboard _Ghost of Davy Jones _watched the ship burn, swaying with the movement of the ocean waiting to sink into the depths. In the captain's cabin, Gray eye paced with his hands behind his back. All the traitors-excluding Salty Bones- were hunted down and killed like miserable dogs. The search took years after the mutiny to find those who wronged him. Not to act out of revenge, but the pirate code. A law. Punishment would fight the crime.

With the traitors dead, Gray eye had more focus. Finding the treasure that has been hidden for centuries and leaving a trail for Salty Bones. Like a hound with a scent, the former pirate will keep track of it until he found the fox hiding in a hole. It was still too soon to be caught by Salty. Soon enough, however, both will meet. But now was not yet the time. There were still much to do. Soon enough, he will find the daughter and the wife. Scouts were finding the trail of the wife, but as for the daughter… it would seem she has disappeared. Soon enough, Gray eye will be rid of the former pirate that may as well been an assassin. _Like Campbell_.

* * *

_I have come to a decision that I will no longer be the captain of my ship. The voices have haunted me for months. I can still hear their screams in my ears, echoing in a bloody gurgle. Whispering words that I cannot understand but I hear two words: God's treasure. He has told me its location. The old man that I left dying on the steps of his ancestor's once mighty fortress told me where it hides. _

_The sea, she is angry with me. She is not pleased with what I have done to the desert people. A storm brings waves that can destroy my ship and kill my crew. I do not wish to live this life. I cannot bear to live a life in which I will have regret. Have I finally been broken? Was it the will of God, not the sea, who wants me to stay far from the treasure?_

The sound of a fiddle played softly in the night. Stars above in the heavens shined brightly as I closed the journal that was within my hands. My hair was blowing in the wind as I sat above the roof of the tavern. My eyes noticed the flickering of candles in the windows of homes dancing to the melody of the fiddle. I wondered what story the fiddle was telling. Could it be a man fighting a war far from his home, death of many people, or a lost love coming home for the first time in years? There were many stories music tells. Stories could be of peace and war. Stories could be about love. Stories of the lost soldier's and those who somehow found their way home after being far away from home.

_Children of Adam and Eve…_

I stood on my feet as the whispers once more came back. The music of the fiddle was nothing more than distant. Walking to the edge of the roof with my father's journal still in my grasp; letting the cool night air blow gently to the sound of the music, the whispers sub-sided letting my mind feel at ease. I felt at peace.

The streets of Boston were clearing and most shops were closed when the sun hit the horizon. Children were no longer running outside, playing and laughing. Now that the sun was resting so the children rest with the sun. The night brings about many creatures of lost legend and myth. Some I remember as a child. The children will sleep knowing the instrument could make a beautiful sweet lullaby into a peaceful dream. No monsters will come to them. Nothing will hurt them.

Though, orphans still roam the streets trying to find a place to sleep.

'_I wonder what became of my orphan friends in New York._' I thought to myself. '_Were they forced to join the English soldier's? Did some die from sickness?_'

Taking my final step I looked below to see a barrel of hay. Do I dare take the leap of faith? This was act of courage, belonging, knowledge that was meant for the assassins. I have yet to take a chance at something. There was still something more. Even with my thoughts clouded by many things there was still a missing piece. It was there hidden but I could not yet find it underneath the ruble.

This is what freedom should be. It should not be ideal things that are talked about. No, freedom should be in the spirit. Even the change was in the people whether they see it or not. All of _this _is based on an idea. All of this was something more. What I see before me was to be grand.

"What are you doing?"

Startled out of my own thoughts, I turned my head to my right with wide eyes. I looked as if I was a child caught doing something they were not suppose too. I saw Connor stop just a few inches from me, looking to me with question.

"…standing on the ledge of this building to perform a leap of faith," shrugging my shoulders I turned from Connor and kept my eyes on the hay. A strand of my hair fell into my face which I tucked away behind my ear.

"Why would you risk hurting yourself for such an act? What are you trying to prove?" He asked crossing his arms.

"Do you not trust me, Connor? I will not hurt myself in the matter. I want to see if I can do so to prove to myself that I have that strength to fight by your side. You have little faith in me." It was mere truth that I spoke. I wanted to prove my courage and my stature to the assassin. As of late, he was being just as stubborn as I.

"I do not always trust your decisions. Consider _this _one of your worse. I will not stop you. Your stubborn nature will continue unless you do not think you have enough strength to fight by my side. I may have something that can reconsider your _choice _if you choose." Taking a side glance I could see a grin on his lips. Above all, I felt a bit ashamed (not foolish) for trying to prove my strengths.

"Do not be so coy with me. I am not so foolish, but one day I will take that step. The God's, however, have other plans." I stated with a sigh of defeat, "They always have other plans."

"Do not blame your God's for your choice."

Uncrossing his arms and within his hand was a piece of paper. Curious as to what it may be that was on the paper, I took it from his grasp and began to unfold it. There was a smirk on my lips as my eyes scanned each word. Plastered in the middle of the page was a depiction of me with the words **WANTED **printed in bold letters and underneath the picture was a word that made my lips turn into a thin line: '_man_'. The soldier's depict me as a man. A feminine man no-less. That was expected from those that do not know of my true sex. At least I can sleep peacefully in the night not having to worry.

"I am a wanted _man_. I do not know if it is a blessing or a curse that many still see me as a _man_. But I am no murderer." I almost spat casting a hard glare to those words. "I did not kill any of the red coats. I kept two alive; the ones I fought."

"You have _yet_ to spill blood but you aided me and the other man in the attack. Do you fear taking a life, because you do not want to be called a murderer?"

I inwardly twitched when Connor's words struck deeply. He stood still as a statue with his chest rising and falling from his breathing. The fiddle that played the sad tune of a story of love or war changed its song into one deeply rich with a soothing tone. How was I to place these words that will not come from my mouth?

"I fear most things. Being called a murderer is a word that taints a person. Taking a life is instinct when it is necessary. Is it in nature that predator's kill for food? Animals kill for territory and mates? Not all are born with…" I folded the poster placing it inside of my father's journal. Without finishing my sentence I felt something sweep me from under my legs.

Feeling the pain run up my spine like a thousand small needles, my hair sprawled on the tiles of the roof. Arching my back with the pain I wanted to yell. Clenching my teeth I saw Connor bend down near me with a serious look to his face. _Why did he do that_?

"You talk too much. To take a life is never necessary to some. Nature has her ways for those to survive. Predators _and_ prey must survive because it is instinct. If you feel your life is in danger, if you feel those you love in danger, do not hold your blade with hesitation."

Then I heard the sound of his hidden blade as he quickly aimed for my head. Moving to the side with my father's journal in hand, the blade skidded off the roof tiles. I had to watch my footing when down below I could fall and break a bone or worse. On my stomach I glanced at the assassin before me. Blades at the ready for another attack and his stance all too familiar as if we were training once more in the forests; I had no weapons for my own defense. Did he want to see if I can truly kill a man? With no weapon I cannot act as if I were to kill.

"If it is not so simple, how can you raise your blade without that hesitation? Is it for your village where the people inside are those you love or is there something more to your agenda that you will not speak of? I may not have killed, I may have skills to knock a man to the ground, but I am still a warrior."

"What I do is for my home and those I love the most. The threat of taking that from _us _needs to end before I lose it." No longer taking a stance of attack, Connor stood tall. "What do you have that is most important? You still have your mother and father."

Breathing in sharply as the pain in my back slowly sub-sided, I stood on shaky legs. Clenching my teeth once more Connor was standing in front of me. Once more I was letting my emotions cloud me. Moments before I was in peace listening to the music of the fiddle, thinking of the stories that it could tell and the children that still sleep or are orphans in the street. Breathing in deeply I stood to my feet. This was the life that I chose on my own. To make peace there has to be bloodshed. Connor understood that he was not a man who not would willingly murder. He would kill those who mean to him or other's harm.

"My decisions are for the benefit of our cause; whatever _our _cause may be. For these people here in Boston, the colonies above and below, and your people I will not see it go to waste. We fight for many reasons but I will not kill, _yet_."

"You may be stubborn and have a mouth that can bite, but you are also a friend. You could have attacked me when I made you fall, but you did not."

"It was not necessary for me to attack. You are my ally. I was not raised to be a disobedient soldier. I was raised to follow orders, do what is right. My father would have beaten me until I learned to stand tall without question."

"You are no soldier," He said. "You stand tall to fight by my side. It is but honorable. Stubborn, but a well fit fighter."

Stunned by what I heard coming from his mouth, I placed my free hand on Connor's shoulder which the assassin tensed at my sudden touch. Holding the journal close to my chest I let out a breath knowing I was going to regret what I was to do. Quickly, I pulled him close in a hug. Tightly with one arm around his neck and my hand with the journal being crushed by our embrace I let him go. Backing away from him inch by inch he stood there mouth agape. Such affection was foreign, but it was needed on my part. There were far too many things to be worried about. For this one small moment, for this one act of embrace, I felt free from the struggles that were to come _our _way.

'_Even when the world feels it is going to crash on you there will always be someone to hold you above to breathe. Life changes and people change. My daughter, you will grow to be someone's hand to hold above to breathe._' The words of my mother echoed in my mind.

Keeping my eyes on Connor I moved forwards. Nothing was perfect. No one could be perfect. This world that we call our own was changing before us. The sound of the war drums was coming closer and we have yet to fight. The assassin did not move when I was again close enough to touch. I smiled knowing that he was still not used to my affection for him. Even if we had our differences on many things, I still cared even if he saw it or was too blind to see. Our differences where in the way we lived, talked, stood, walked, even how we saw this threat that was rising. But those differences are what kept us determined to find answers. My questions of my father may not come to me until I see him again. Connor's question of finding the men responsible for the fire may not come until the Templar's made their move. Somehow, we were both looking for answers only to be caught between growing tensions of citizens against the crown.

'_Somehow, we will be free_.'

With both arms, I wrapped them around the stunned assassin letting out a low chuckle as if what happened before and the conversation no longer existed. Without knowing, Connor himself found it within himself to embrace me back. The fiddle that continued to play was slowly dying. The song was about done waiting to play another. This time, the song would be one of understanding of loss and of love. A soft voice of a woman began to sing with the fiddle.

Tomorrow was to be another day. Tomorrow will be a new beginning.

What was to happen will only be determined by fate. _She _is still lurking within the shadows waiting for the opportunity to lead us. This was still the beginning my journey to finding my rightful place in this world. Somewhere, my father was searching for Gray eye or resting. Somewhere, my mother was looking through the window of my grandfather's home waiting for her husband and daughter to return home.

'…_just not yet_.'

* * *

**A/N: **Chapter 14… already. Well, we still have a long way to go before we end up finding out what the treasure is and how it will all fit together like a missing piece to a puzzle. I would like to once again thank those who reviewed. Thank you very much and I will re-write ch.13 when I get that chance after work or what not. I am a bit busy with trying to get my ass (Excuse the language) into the Army Reserve and working.


	15. Doubt of a Sea Dog

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**1773: Two Day's Travel from Boston**

_Children of __Adam__ and __Eve__…_

_The blade…_

_Robert De Sable…_

He awoke with a loud gasp. His chest tightened as he struggled for a single breath, but even with the morning light shining down upon him the grace of God would not let his lungs expand in his chest. Eyes were wide with his hand clinging to his clothing. His beating racing heart wanted to tear itself from his ribcage. At last he took in a big gulp of fresh grassy air; the smell of nature. His horse startled with a neigh a few yards from where he camped. Lightly, the horse stomped the ground throwing dirt and grass in the opposite direction.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Salty began to stand on shaky legs. The fire that was made last night was nothing more than smoldering ash. Smoke lifted high into the sky with meat from a hare still roasting black. Leaning against the tree that was behind him, Salty could not recount the nightmare of his dreadful past. It was always something different but it would end with the slaughter of many men, women, and children. Even the face of the old man lingered with dying eyes.

Finding his goat skin that carried water, Salty lifted it and his head as the water poured on his face. The cool liquid felt good against his hot skin. Shaking any remaining droplets from his hair and growing facial hair, the former pirate was but another days travel from where he needed to be. In a small community is where _she _waits for him. Determined to make the journey before nightfall, Salty gathered his belongings and placed them on his horse. Making sure all was secure for the long journey ahead. Once that was done, Salty walked towards the fire pit. Throwing dirt on smoldering ash the smoke coming from the pit came to a still.

The hare that was burned black was what Salty ate for the morning. It was enough to keep him full for an hour or so before he had to eat again. There were deer within the area but he would make do with small game. Eating his fill and giving his horse an apple or two, the day's journey was beginning.

…_Just one more day._

…_Just one more day._

…

As his journey was drawing nearer on his last day of travel, Salty was in an eerie silence in the forest. It was _unsettling_ that even the horse was weary of its surroundings. Animals that lived within the area were nowhere in sight. Not even a bird was flying or a hare running in his path. His eyes were keen on finding any form of life. The trees were fresh and the grass was green. Anything living could not resist such a feast and the predators were not lurking. Wolves were not even in the area. The wilderness was not always so quiet unless there was danger about.

'_It is within the area of…_'

Riding his steed as fast as the animal could push itself; blood poured from the horses' nose. Its heart racing harder with its strong muscles leading it through thick bushes, trees with low branches, and even the terrain would have been devastating if not for Salty guiding the horse through. Ducking low on the saddle of his horse so not to fall or get scratched by any branch, they came into a clearing as birds from dead trees flew in a startled cry. Pulling back the reigns roughly the horse reared on its two strong hind legs almost causing Salty to fall.

"Steady!" He yelled trying to control the animal into a calm state. To no avail, the animal was bucking wildly. It took Salty a little over five minutes to calm the animal. Once dismounting his steed and leading it to a post, the former pirate was not so pleased with the damage.

Once a vibrate community was now nothing more then burned wood and ash. The smell of smoke lingered lightly in the air. These houses, these stores, even stalls were burned down to nothing more than little remains and ash. How long ago did this happen? Was it days, weeks, months? Leaving the horse to rest, Salty looked for any sign of life within the community. It was a lost cause for not a living soul was about. There was evidence that there has been no life of human's for some time.

'_Adolfa!_' His mind shouted.

"Adolfa!"

Echoing in the deserted community, Salty paced at a fast speed towards a house he knew his wife was staying in with her father: Emilio. The house was no longer a house. The windows were shattered and the front door was missing. The house was almost burned down to the ground only keeping steady by a few support beams from inside. Above what was once the roof was a flag swaying gently in the wind. The color and the image on the flag were unmistakable. Clenching his teeth with narrowed eyes, Salty's legs were trembling with anger. So much was going through his mind with the scenario that may have played out.

"You are three months too late, Salty."

Turning on his heel to face the familiar figure; he was standing just some feet away holding on to the reigns of his horse. Eyes looking from Salty to the home behind him indicating that he has found out. The flag of Gray eye continued to sway in the wind of the early morning breeze.

"Haytham. You knew about this?!" Salty shouted pointing to the house. Haytham in return did not flinch or spare the former pirate any mind. Shouting at the Templar was not going to get Salty any answers that he seeks.

"Ease your temper, _pirate_." Haytham always used such a word against Salty. It was like placing a muzzle on a rabid dog. Salty did nothing more than sneer at the Templar knight, but he kept his ground watching with eyes that were sharp. Haytham had no intention on fighting the former pirate nor did he have time to explain why he was within the area of burned houses and shops. There were more _settle _issues that he needed to do and coming through this charred community was the only way without having to run across red coats on patrol or a battalion of them.

"As I have said before, you are three months too late. I do not repeat myself but when it comes to a temper like yours, it is but an annoyance. Your former captain has wreaked havoc on such a place. Those who have lived here speak that pirates were searching for _someone_." He stated stopping in-front of the former pirate; his horse flicking its ear in annoyance. "Maybe you may know who it was that they seek. You _pirates_ are nothing more than troublesome."

"Why do you insist to mock me? Your witty comments only dig deep in my nerves."

"I am not mocking you. Do not accuse me of such a petty thing. In all fairness, you are the one who brings it on yourself. It is not I. When I say to ease your temper, I mean it. Your former captain is like a dog off of his leash. I take it that you will take care of the problem before he turns on _us_. A pirate's spilled blood is not my concern."

"You expect me to pick up _your _mess? I have my own agenda on how I will end Gray eye, if he does not end you and your Templar dogs first." Salty snapped.

Haytham's lip twitched with utter annoyance. Why could this former pirate be civil instead of acting like a rabid dog? The Templar's patience with the former pirate grew thinner and thinner with every meet.

"Was it not you that failed to _kill_ your own mentor (your own captain)? You blame others for your misfortune. You should take your responsibility and blame yourself for bringing _this _upon others you love." Salty wanted to laugh in the Templar's face for saying such bold words. It was truth but the Templar hid secrets so deep that even his lies where becoming truth.

"What would you know of love, Haytham? Do not take me for a fool. I heard of the stories about that native woman. If you knew about protecting those you love, maybe you would know what I and others go through when we sense danger. But alas, you do not."

Haytham almost rushed towards Salty with intent to kill at the mention of Ziio- the native woman. He had no right to say such a thing, even if Salty did not know her name. The words of protecting loved ones were always so deep. Haytham knew about loss the moment he trained with his father back in England. He lost his family at a young age-other than his half-sister- and trained under the guidance of Templar's. Ziio was different. The thought of her, Haytham always wondered what it would have been like to have stayed. The past was the past.

The Templar and former pirate kept a steady glare on one another. The swaying of their coats in the gentle wind, the tense air cleared. One man was to walk the opposite to their destination. Recollecting on lost memories, Haytham walked passed Salty with his horse trailing behind. There was nothing more left to say. It was not defeat the Templar walked from. It was reliving what happened long ago.

Salty heard the horse and its master growing distant. The former pirate was at a loss for Haytham would conjure with a deadly strike of words, but he did not. Dropping his shoulder's in defeat he left it at that. There was nothing here in this community but the flag that still swayed. _That_ flag will fall. That flag will be buried in the grave of the pirates that either took his wife or she somehow escaped them. He was hoping she has escaped.

'_She has escaped_.'

* * *

I was leaning against the side of a building overlooking the streets. My arms were crossed with my hat lowered to keep the sun from blinding me. I was searching while Connor was on the opposite side of me watching with little to no patience. He was unclear on what it was that I was doing, but I insisted that in order for us to find Mister Adams: _we had to wait for the morning light to bring about the beggars_. With the citizens on the brink of revolt due to higher taxes and prices of food, I was looking for a small group in particular that had the knowledge of the streets.

Connor was not sure on what it was that I meant by such words, but after our _incident _the night before he held a bit more trust in me and my decisions. He had-somewhat- a better understanding of my nature. We were different on our approaches to certain situations. Somehow, we had to work around those differences, because if we did not do so one of us (or both) will be killed. The embrace itself was something that was needed for the benefit of us both. I was not expecting him to truly embrace me back, but I was happy that I can show the assassin that I _did _care.

'_But does he care back_?' My mind mocked.

Focusing intently to little shadows moving past the crowds, pickpockets were fast grabbers taking what little they can. _They_ were not the group I was seeking. In another part of the street were distractors-reserved for the best of actors- but not the ones I want. Orphans were always in _packs_ with each having their own duty depending on what they can do the best. I was on the search for one in particular and trying to find them was like finding a needle in the haystack.

Lookouts were my best and only bet for they know who to look for if they were to steal or run from red coats or angry citizens. They were also vigilant feisty little creatures. Lookouts blended in with crowds, but on some occasion they would lead the others in playing pranks on the red coats. On some rare occasion they would also be the leader giving orders to those far below them.

In the midst of my thoughts, I found my target in a frail boy whose clothes were too big for his small frame. He looked to be fourteen if not a little older than he already was. I was not certain on his age just the guess. Keeping my eyes from being all the obvious to the lookout, I knew Connor would quickly spot him.

"Do you see the boy sitting on the steps?" I asked Connor, "the one whose clothes are dirty and frail on his skinny body."

"…Him?"

Without word, I pushed myself off the wall and began to walk towards the orphan child in a cautious manner. Big blue eyes looked to me wearily but I held my hands in surrender with a coin in between my fingers. On further inspection, the orphan had short blonde hair and his skin was pale with clunks of dirt smeared over him.

'_Take the bait_.' I thought to myself as the boy looked to the coin in my grasp.

"I have seen yer face plastered on posters. Heard ya and another have been causing trouble in Boston, eh?" The boy spoke in a cocky manner, "mighty brave of ya ta be walkin' about when the red coats are ta sluggish ta even capture criminals. Ye have a hefty price on yer heads."

"You hear many rumors from the locals and from drunks. I am not the criminal you see on the posters. I am searching for a man." I went straight to the point keeping my voice from rising. With orphans it was like trying to haggle with a con-man.

The boy sat back on the steps as I heard footsteps behind me. They were heavy, but I did not take my eyes off of the orphan boy. The child held a smirk to his young face thinking he won some game. With the coin still in between my fingers, I held a smirk of my own. I knew how I was to make him talk. Coins willingly given to orphans were just rare. In any case I could use these orphans for information.

"If the man ya seek is the _savage _behind ya, I will gladly take yer coin and be off. No, I make it more than one coin fer the _savage_ is worth more."

Connor took a step forwards in defense as the words he most despised came from the boy's mouth in a mocking manner. The boy chuckled lightly as I kneeled before him. My weapon was visible for him to see that I was not in the mood to deal with his childish tactics. Keeping the coin in my hand with a tight grip, my eyes were staring angrily into the child's big blue eyes. I had to make this quick for there were still red coats about.

"Sadly, my _friend_ is not whom I seek. If you want to be cocky with me_ child_, these streets become dangerous and if you want to cross paths with the likes of a New York orphan," I bluffed, "you better run for your life, because I know you hear stories of us. _You pathetic little child_." I stated in Spanish.

Orphans were not like obedient children with families. These children lived and survived in the streets. They had to do what they can to make a coin or else risk starvation and sickness. Orphans had to act tough but I knew when to bluff, even to a small child younger than I. It also came with the territory when I mentioned New York. The orphans I knew were known to be ruthless and dangerous, but I myself had my own reputation.

The child furrowed his brows and sighed in defeat.

"What be the name?" He asked; his young voice like that of a spoiled child.

"Samuel Adams." Connor spoke in a low threatening manner. I could only smile a wicked smile at the scared look of the orphan.

…

Negotiation with children (let alone orphans) was our only option in the matter. The boy with big blue eyes sent his best scouts in search of Mister Adams. We gave the boy a description of what Mister Adams looked like, where we saw him last, and any little information that could be of use without revealing our true intention. From one pack of orphans to another throughout a certain perimeter of Boston, Connor and I had to wait to hear word of where the man was. I was not going to easily give away my coin if the deal was not met.

"You are no orphan." Connor stated raising a brow. "You told me one you had orphan friends, but why lie?"

"If you want to get answers quickly, you have to bluff or you have had to live such a life. Orphans are the best source of such information, because they hear and observe their surroundings. They can be of use for an assassin." I shrugged my shoulders with a small smile.

In return, Connor shook his head with a light chuckle.

'_Maybe he does care_.'

* * *

Three hours later we were entering inside of our destination. It was nothing more than an empty tavern waiting to be filled with drinkers and vagabonds alike. There was an exception of an early drinker in one chair or another, but it was near empty. Sitting at the bar was Mister Adams and a man in deep conversation. Connor and I walked towards the men as their conversation came to a halt once our footsteps were heard on the wooden floor and caught the attention of Mister Adams. It was not long before I could see a smile on the man's face. _Is he always so joyous_?

"Connor! _Tom_!" Mister Adams called to us, "I'd like you two to meet some like-minded friends. The owner of this fine establishment, William Molineux and the manager and chef of his newest venture, Stephan Chapheau."

Tipping my hat to Mister Molineux with a light bow, Connor nodded his head to the man before us. Said man looked to us with his stern eyes but acknowledged both Connor and I. The second man-Stephan- was nowhere in the room. Searching for the other man, our attention focused to the sound of light footsteps. It did not take long for a familiar figure to appear from the doorway at the back of a room. Stephan was his name. The very man that was covered in blood not one day ago was now rid of the red color.

"Ah! Connor, Tom, and I just had a ball with some Redcoats enforcing some taxation outside my home!" He stated. I shook my head as Connor looked somewhat amused by the man. Though, it was short lived.

"The collectors grow bolder and forceful. Something we must address, Samuel." William said, looking to Mister Adams with a stern look. Any feeling of peace was overtaken by the tense air. These men lived within Boston and had much intelligence of what is happening in their area. It was almost easy to forget that the mention of taxation was through the sneer lips of men and women. These people were growing tired of having to be oppressed by the crown and for such-the rise in tax was not making it easier on any citizens.

"Then let us raise a banner. Something to let the people know that they are not alone. The docks are an angry place of late, protestors picketing the latest shipments of British tea. The eyes of the city are upon the stage." Determination was slick in Mister Adam's voice. Yet, I had to truly wonder if this determination will be true. Connor and I have not seen much of Boston since we arrived, but we both could see the _change_.

"Will the people of Boston hear your call?" I asked unsure of this myself. All eyes quickly turned their attention towards me, waiting to hear what I had to say further. I had the floor. I had the stage. I was not afraid to speak openly about an issue that hit close to home, "if the people of Boston are strong and true to their cause, they will need leaders. They need to see that there are those who have that chance against the crown. They need to know that their voices go without notice. If the people want freedom, then they will have to start somewhere."

"It may be true, but the citizens of Boston will fight. They have been pushed far to a breaking point." William stated.

"Aye, they have." Mister Adams agreed. Connor kept his eyes on those talking, not breaking into the conversation until it was needed of him to talk. "We all have been pushed too far for many years."

"A Bostonian without his tea is a dangerous beast!" Stephan shouted with a boast of his pride. Connor looked to the man trying to understand what he meant, but for those that knew the meaning did not laugh at this _joke_. To these men it was a serious matter because the rise of taxes can be a very dangerous subject leading to violence among the people. Focusing once more on what was happening, William took out a bag.

"William Johnson is smuggling the tea off ships- one of his men tried to sell me this." William picked up the small bag to hand it to Mister Adams who showed Stephan. I walked a bit closer trying to take a better look at the bag. "A sample of what I refused, but it's from those ships- no mistaking the stamp. He's charging a King's ransom, must be he's making a mint off those who buy it."

'_There is more to this than I thought._'

"The pirates and those vagabonds you call thieves are slacking. They are too busy seeking destruction in the Bahamas." Stephan said. "If they were in these waters, I am sure the English ships would burn. But the tea would burn with the ship."

"Pirates are a dying breed if you have forgotten, Stephan. There are only legends and stories about the greatest of them. It has been such since Salty Bones retired his flag some years ago. The golden age of pirates has long been over. Those that claim to be pirates are dying faster than they can board a ship." William stated not caring much in the matter.

"Ol' Salty Bones, eh. I have not heard that name in years." Stephan shook his head as he scratched at the back of his neck. "How the mighty will fall."

'_If only they knew_.' I thought to myself, feeling uncomfortable at the talk of pirates; of my very own blood. It was a surprise that my own father was_ that_ infamous. I was not aware that anyone other than rivals knew of him. _How dangerous was he_? Seeing the hesitation in my stance, Connor had no time to talk about pirates only that Johnson might be in Boston.

"I do not wish to speak of pirates or of this _Salty _Bones (_?_). Where is he now?" Connor spoke moving an inch forwards getting the attention of William.

"Easy there, Connor. We do not want to rush into things." I said. Without thinking on the matter I placed my hand on the assassin's shoulder. He tensed quickly but he did not push me away. I only got a hard glare from Connor before he turned his attention back to William. Mister Adams shook his head as Stephan raised a brow. With some reassurance in my touch, he waited for his answer.

"I've never met the man." …_disappointment_.

"You only know his name?" The assassin said. I could feel his shoulder drop in my touch.

"Aye. I do not even know what he looks like."

"May I ask why you seek him, Connor?" Mister Adams asked with furrowed brows.

I took my hand from his shoulder as all three men kept their eyes on the assassin. Lowering my hat down to cover my eyes I listened to what it was Connor was going to say.

"He intends to purchase the land upon which my village stands without the consent of my people." I knew it was a personal matter for him and now the rest will have a bit of understanding. It was evident in the way he spoke, the way he was standing. The talk of taking his peoples land was what kept him searching. He needed to protect his people from that very threat.

"No doubt the revenue from his little smuggling endeavor is financing the acquisition. A tax enforced on tea grants a boon of smugglers. I'll wager the same men who levy the taxes are selling the tea. A stage requires a spectacle and I may know the play." Mister Adams stated, rising from his chair along with William.

"Head back to the docks and see to the destruction of the tea. You may find him or someone who knows of him. If you should need us, return here," Mister Adams said, "the red coats are more cautious now. Try to be careful."

'_If only it were that easy_.'

* * *

**A/N: **Once again thank you for the reviews and the followers of my story. You guys really rock! I wish I could do something to really show y'all my appreciation. You readers are my inspiration to keep posting and pretty much going, even though I get stuck with writer's block. Lol.

I saw the new AC4 commercial the other day and I was like… Pirates! Now I see where Haytham and Connor get their good looks from. Lol. Edward being Haytham's father and Connor's grandfather… Maybe I will incorporate that into my story. Hopefully I get me some new reader's that may be interested in the pirate side of assassin's creed.

Much love to my reader's. You guys and **gals** are truly and forever my fans!


	16. Breaking Bad Blood

**Bad Blood**

* * *

We _ran_.

We ran like hell.

Running as fast as our legs could get us as red coats were chasing after two of Boston's most wanted criminals. _We_ have destroyed the tea at the docks one by one. With this destruction guards on patrol spotted us and knew that _we _were up to no good. They shouted out commands to other soldiers within the area to capture us. _They_ wanted us to hang in the gallows. They wanted blood. They wanted _us_. We were much more than a thorn in the side of the crown.

We were the thorn in the side of Templar's.

Fighting as many red coats as we could, we were soon to be outnumbered. Muskets were pointed in our direction; bayonets came close to our organs, Connor killed as many as he could while I wounded some who attacked me. Citizens who saw our struggle ran in fright. Following the lead of the citizens, we had to run through the alleyways using the disarray of our actions. I was the faster runner and Connor was the better climber. I was leaner while Connor was more build. I told the assassin to use the rooftops and he complied easily without question (though without a doubt he was going to use the rooftops without my say). Using my own knowledge and my speed to use the alleyways to confuse the red coats; I was giving the assassin a higher advantage to oversee the chaos below him.

With Connor above me, he kept his eyes keen like a hawks. Left, right, right, left, throwing clothes in the face of the red coats, jumping over sleeping dogs or maneuvering around the occasional woman doing laundry- I was running out of alleyways as Connor was jumping from rooftop to rooftop just to keep watch in case I needed him. It would only be a matter of time before he would lose me out of his sight for the buildings were growing scarce.

Not looking back behind me, I saw a high fence that I could use to hide behind. There was a crate in-front of the fence which I use to step on. Using my hands to grab hold of the top of the fence, I leaped over all the while I cut the palm of my hand. Landing roughly on my feet I was clenching my teeth from the rough landing and the cut I endured which was now bleeding.

Cursing mentally, I heard the footsteps of the patrol come to a halt a few seconds after I have landed behind the fence. With my heart racing, I prayed that they would not find me. Any cause for disturbance would lead the soldiers towards me. I did not feel the need to continue to fight. My body could not handle anymore beatings- for that matter my body was too tired.

"Those damned thieves got away!" One of them shouted.

"Ye were the one ta lose them, ye idiot," the other retorted.

My back was against the fence with my hand clutching to my chest. Hair clung to my sweaty face and my hat was threatening to fall from my head. I had to keep focus on my surroundings. My wounded palm was throbbing that I could feel my blood rushing through my veins. Connor was watching me from the roof ready to assist if needed, but with the fence hiding me I was safe for _now_.

The soldiers that were still arguing kept their threats to a minimum. Checking every nook and cranny for me until they came close to the fence I was hiding behind. I took my dagger from its sheath with my back stiffing with their movement. Holding it tightly in my grasp, I could hear their footsteps coming closer and closer.

'_Do not dare._' I thought.

Each second was agonizing as the next. Cursing inside of my thoughts I feared the worse. If they were to stand on the crate and look down I would be caught instantly. As my luck was about to run out, the soldiers cursed knowing they could not find me or Connor. They have given up their search. Maybe the red coats had other matters than trying to find two criminals.

Their footsteps grew distant as I let out a low steady breath I did not know I was holding. Letting my body slide down the fence, I looked up to the roof where Connor was laying low. We stared at each other for a split second until I looked away.

Putting away my dagger I stood straight using the fence to support me. I knew I was not going to be able to climb the fence without a crate so the only option was to climb to the roof of the building. Walking towards the building that the fence surrounded, I jump on the window and began my climb despite my hand being in pain. Using any footholds, ledges, even window seals to climb, I was feeling the bricks rub against my wound as I continued up the building.

'_Leaner build is not always such an advantage_.' I thought.

Walking towards the assassin who was sitting down looking out to the distance, I wanted to fall due to exhaustion my body was experiencing. _Reminds me of the days where I would go home to mother, tired and worn. Days of training under harsh conditions never settled with my body growing in muscle._ Sitting next to Connor, I looked to my wounded palm knowing that the cut was not so deep. Still, I had to cover it in case infection was to set in. I had no cloth or any use for cover; my wound had to be open for a bit longer until we could return to the tavern or I would find myself a doctor.

'_They may use maggots_.' Sneering at the thought I wiped as much blood as I could.

"How bad is the wound?" Connor asked taking a hold of my wrist.

"I will be fine once I cover it. I do not want infection to slow me down or you. I must clean it thoroughly even if it is not deep." I said roughly taking my wrist from his grasp. The blood from my palm fell in small droplets on the roof.

'_Could this day end any worse_?'

* * *

I poured water on the palm of my hand trying my hardest not to cry out in pain. Sitting alone at one of the tables in this empty tavern, Connor decided it was best to leave me to clean and secure my wound. He offered to help but I declined it only to be much of a fool not having the help that was generously offered to me by the assassin. He did bring me the water and cloth which I thanked him for.

Cleaning the wound as carefully and intently as I could-not to cause infection-I was sneering at the pain. The wound I endured was not as deep as I first thought, but it was burning from the cool water like a hot flame. A few strands of my hair fell in my face as my hat was right next to me on the table. I finished quickly and I wrapped a clean cloth around my hand. Not being able to tie it correctly I stood from the chair I was sitting in to find Connor who was in search for Mister Adams.

"Who cares! I've been robbed! _Lls vont me le payer ces scelerats de merde_… (_Those scoundrels are going to pay_…)" I heard Stephan yell catching my attention.

Quickly walking towards the commotion trying to keep the cloth in place, Stephan passed Connor with a large butcher knife in his hand. My eyes widened at the sheer size of the object which could be used as a weapon. The assassin seemed to do nothing but let the man storm out of the tavern in frustration. Even if he could try to reason with Stephan, the man was not going to be easily persuaded by such words of calm. Whatever it was that mad Stephan angry, having to walk out with a large butcher knife in his hand meant that he was looking for a fight… Maybe even blood.

'_Can I have one day of rest_?' I thought with irritation.

"Are we not going to stop him?" I asked through muffled words tying the cloth as best I could quickly.

As if to answer my question, Connor rushed past me in haste. I was not so sure or had a good feeling at what was to happen. Sighing, I followed close behind the assassin out the tavern and into the streets without my hat. The citizens who were walking about seemed to not realize that a madman with a butcher knife was walking down the same path as them. His destination was unknown to us both. Was Connor going to let Stephan walk with such a weapon in his hand? Why did he not stop him when he had that chance? Were _we_ going to stop him? I was not sure as to what the answer was to my questions.

Running to catch up with Stephan who has yet to attack anyone, I was wondering who it was that was going to feel the man's wrath. I was exhausted from our earlier encounter with red coats that my body wanted to rest. Fearing for the worst the day could bring me, I wanted to tackle Stephan to get it all over with. _I would fight the man if it came to it_. Talking deep sense into the man was not going to be much of any use.

"Where are you going?" Connor asked with question.

"To get back what's rightfully mine!" Stephan shouted with flaying arms.

"What do you mean? Are you trying to start a fight?!" I shouted at him only to have my words go through deaf ears. Instead I focused my questioning to the assassin, "Connor, what does he mean? If any guards see him with that weapon in his grasp, we might as well plan his funeral and dig his grave."

"When I found him, he was in this angered state. He claims that he was robbed and is out for blood." The assassin stated.

Following close down the street and taking a left -citizens looked on with either curiosity or with horror- the feeling that was at the pit of my stomach wanted me to run. We were entering into dangerous territory where we could easily be spotted. Even if I did not have my hat, even if I looked more like a feminine man, the feeling had to be subsided for the time being.

Right before us were two red coats that turned around being interrupted from their conversation. I stiffened as the soldiers walked closer to us with their muskets held close to their bodies in a defensive manner. There was question in their eyes when we approached their post.

"Oh! _Reardez_! (look) Some pathetic Redcoats waiting for a beating." Stephan taunted.

"Are you asking for a death sentence?!" Connor shouted trying to reason. His words were of no use when the red coats saw this as a threat.

Before I knew it, the red coats saw their targets and attacked. Connor quickly placed his hidden blade in the throat of a red coat while Stephan was fighting the other soldier, doing all he could to tire out his opponent. His butcher knife collided with that of the rifle as I was not aware of my mouth slight agape. The soldier that had the hidden blade go through his throat lay on the ground dead. Connor retracted his blade without once looking back towards me. Those who witnessed this course of action either ran away in fear of retaliation or cheered on this bloody mess.

I was at a stand still trying to understand what it was that I have just witnessed.

"I will match your face to your jacket,_ crapule_! (Bastard!)"

"Seliah?" I heard Connor whisper but my mind was not registering my surroundings.

Stephan quickly moved to the side as the red coat stepped forward only to have the large weapon cut straight into his neck. Blood poured out quickly with the man screaming in bloody gurgles. Dropping to his knees knowing that he was a dead man, I looked away not wanting to see the death of a man. My eyes were focused on Connor who placed his hand on my shoulder. Closing my mouth and swallowing the spit, I turned to see Stephan walk away from the bloody scene.

"Seliah?" He said my name again.

This continued on. Violence kept either of us from talking as Stephan continued on with his rage. There was no reasoning with a strong-headed man who set his sights on killing or even injuring red coats that he saw fit. Connor and I had no other choice but to assist in this chaotic madness. The citizens themselves were of no help, only to follow like sheep shouting out their enjoyment of this new _revolution_.

I help as best that I could with defending the men that were by my side. My wounded hand was slowing me down and the red coats saw this to their advantage as they came after me: the weakest. The red coats found out that I was not weak due to my handicap. Connor kept his eyes firm trying to keep me from falling victim. But I was not going to let him be responsible for my well being. I fought my own fights against the red coats until I smelled the sea air.

We have reached the docks with a trail of blood in the hands of the two men whom I fought side by side with; Stephan and Connor stopped at the edge of the alleyway. Looking down at my clothed hand, blood smeared the once clean white fabric. I was not sure if it was my blood or the blood of red coats that were killed by the two men before me. There was no time to question or even feel that irritation I had for Connor and Stephan. There was a new target that held our sights.

There was a change in events. The tension that was rising had me at a standstill. I knew-everyone in Boston and the colonies- saw the tension rise. For years the oppression that (_we_) suffered was going to cause war. All that (_I_) feared was into light. Not my father's journal-no.

_They _knew not of Templar's.

_They _wanted something.

_They _wanted freedom!

"Destroyed? You stupid mongrel! And I suppose you want me to tell Johnson his tea just spontaneously combusted! Someone's responsible for this and you will find out who. And if you can't, I'll gut you and find a mongrel who can." A man threatened that of a dark skinned fellow.

"What do we do?" Stephan asked.

"You are not going to stop your rampage until you end another life?" I sneered at the man.

"Would you do the same if they robbed you of your possessions? Your hands will not always be so clean. Do not play a saint if you assist in helping me."

Stephan was only a few inches from my face. His eyes staring down at me as I glared at him-waiting to throw a right hook in his jaw. The grip of his hand on the butcher's knife was turning his knuckles white. The tension that was in the air was as thick that anything could have its trouble cutting through it. I was going to step out of line but Connor placed his arm out in-front of me. He did not look to me but kept his gaze on that of the man that was the new target. I held back my sharp tongue still trying to understand this situation.

"_Tom_, do not make this situation any worse as it is," Connor said through clenched teeth, "Stephan,create a window."

Looking from me to the assassin, Stephan lightly nodded his head. Keeping his tight grip on the weapon within his hands, he walked towards the intended target. I wanted to open my mouth once more, but I also wanted to see how this will all end. Lowering his arm, Connor kept his eyes on Stephan and the man.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" The man asked in irritation.

Without a word, Stephan raised his butcher knife high and sliced the weapon into the shoulder of the intended target. I stood firm next to Connor as the man fell to his knees. The butcher knife had cut clean into his flesh that the weapon was sticking out. I flinched from the agonizing pain the man might have been going through.

Blood…

There was much blood…

"W-why?" He asked Stephan.

"You have no right to rob people blind. By decree of British parliament or not." He stated, pointing an accused finger.

"British parliament? I work for William Johnson."

I furrowed my brows. Stephan may have just killed this man for no reason. He made us fight for no reason! I was more than angry at such useless violence. The man with the butcher knife lodged in his shoulder did not know what it was Stephan was speaking of, than all this could have been avoided.

"Johnson?"

In the midst of my angered thought I was not aware of a missing assassin that was at my side just moments before. Connor was at Stephan's side, placing his hand on the man's shoulder.

"End his suffering cleanly." I heard him say.

"Please…"

From that moment I had to look away from a suffering man.

* * *

The sea's winds were fair with a clear night sky. Bringing in a nice breeze and the smell of the sea was fresh as the waves and the sound of water below was far beyond peaceful. Walking above the main deck of the ship, the young pirate found himself staring at the door to the captain's quarters. This would be his first time stepping foot in such a private area of the most feared pirate to have sailed the seas in the last years. All on land and on sea knew that pirates were fading away in the shadows. _They _would be lost in time like many bands of thieves before them. Nothing more than myth and legend passed on through the mouths people who think they know what _this _life was.

Knocking on the door of the captain's quarter there was no answer. All was quiet in the night at sea that the waves rocking against the ship were the only noise of a long comfort. Opening the door with needed caution, Elliot walked inside the candle lit room. Inside was what he had imagined it to be. Documents on the table that were organized without much clutter as Gray eye was more organized than most pirates. He stood tall in front of two flags aware that the young man has let himself in without any say. Gray eye was more _lenient _with his young prodigy.

Elliot recognized one of the flags the moment he set foot inside of the captain's quarters. It was then that Elliot had to ask a question. One of which he wanted to know from the beginning.

"What is it about Salty Bones that makes your skin crawl, captain? Why do you keep him alive if you want him dead?" The young pirate spoke calmly wanting to see the reaction of his elder captain. Despite his older age, Gray eye was still nimble with a sword but if one person were to sneak into his blind side than the older captain would be dead. Luckily Gray eye had many years on him.

The pirate captain turned with a disdain scowl placed upon his lips. His hands behind his back in a steady ease as he turned away from the fabrics of once great flags that flew on pirate ships- though there was one flag that has tainted _Ghost of Davy Jones _for far too long. Its design, even its color, was hated.

"He _was_ a loyal dog trying to survive in a world of the dying pirates. I treated him as if he were my _son_. Like my very own flesh and bone. There was something about Salty Bones that I had overlooked. If I would have known of Campbell's plan to mutiny, I would have killed him long before he made Salty into a _damned_assassin." Gray eye spoke through gritted teeth. The memories were still fresh but even over time those wounds will become scars to an older pirate such as Gray eye.

"You have heard the legends of my mother and father: Anne Bonny and Jack '_Calico Jack_' Rackman. I come from a lineage of pirates that once sailed these waters. The flag you see behind me once defiled _my _ship. Salty Bones claimed _her_ after the mutiny. Such a flag will never rise again. His wife, his seed, his misfortune has become theirs."

Elliot stood firm listening to the older pirate speak of tales of his long past. Such stories were rare and Elliot was eager to hear with anticipation of learning. Finding out that Gray eye treated Salty as his son at one point in time was something of a revelation to the younger pirate. The devotion, the phrase, it all went to Salty long ago before Elliot was even created through the seed of his father. It was not jealousy that the young man felt coursing through his veins.

He was not a child trying to win the affection of his parents. Elliot was a strong man of just twenty-two winters, with a strong build to match and of an origin that reaches the coldest of climates in a place where eyes were as blue as the ocean waters and hair light as the sand on a cove. Elliot was not of Spaniard origin but of something more ancient and divine, which Gray eye saw an allure too.

"I have heard of the stories. What of the other flag?" He asked changing the subject.

"The Kenway flag was once well known in the seas: a pirate of longs past, casted away until he was trained under the assassins. Tell me, Elliot, what do you know of _Black Flag_?" Gray eye said with a smirk placed upon his lips.


	17. A Dog's Revelation

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**Seven Days Later…**

There was a battle challenging his mind. He was tired. He was exhausted. His body wanted to fall to the ground only to rest the aching. Sleep never came so easily for him. The dark circles underneath his eyes were only going to get darker if he did not have that time to sleep. But he could not do so or he did not want to do so. His mind always kept him awake. The never ending battle made the pain grow worse. He could hear their voices speaking in the language of the desert people. All would become blurry in a matter of seconds, but now was not the time to see images pass him by.

Men wearing garments of old times pass. His ancestor was a once great Templar master. He has not yet accepted that fact. He _will _NEVER accept it. His blood will no longer be tainted. His family will no longer be tainted. His daughter- yet to be touched- will not be tainted. Her children will not have to have live with such a disgrace that has befallen upon his understanding.

His horse that carried his belongings was somewhere in the distance. Grazing on fresh green grass as it flicked one of its ears. Too weary to follow its master into a battlefield where blood was spilled tainting the grass with iron and painting the Earth red. The journey was through roads of uncertainty. Through the roads where the answers were not so clear no matter how slick and bumpy the journey gets.

The only clue that was given to him was through a patrol of passing red coats who spoke of hanging a pirate and keeping a woman who was not a savage but of a more _non_-native origin. What of Emilio? They spoke nothing of the old man. He feared for the worse but could only pray. It may have not been much of a clue but a clue none-the-less. He was driven, almost blindly into a battle for the direct answers.

"Ye are goin' ta met yer God!"

Steel clashed against steel in a fight for dominance. The last of the red coats was stronger than his companions who now lay dead or injured and could no longer fight anymore. Using his feet to shuffle as a large sword casted down towards him, Salty was cut on his left arm trying to avoid the weapon. His sword slipped from his grasp leaving him without a secondary weapon for defense. Clenching his teeth as the sword sliced deep into his flesh, the former pirate moved to his left almost falling to the ground. The wound stung painfully in the open air. The red coat laughed when he threw a left hook at Salty hitting him square in the jaw.

This opponent was tough. _This_ opponent was large. Salty was having trouble trying to throw in a punch or a jab from his weapon. Each time Salty's sword would aim at the red coat's sword arm, the man would counter it with his own than throw a left hook or move forwards almost knocking the former pirate to the ground.

"Give up, ye bastard!" The red coat taunted with a grin showing off his yellow teeth.

Sweat was trickling down his body stinging at his flesh and muscles were aching wanting to rest. He had to finish this fight fast. There was no telling how long the injured red coats will live. As the pain in his jaw was not going to subside, Salty had to continue the fight. He could taste his own blood in his mouth. It tasted of iron. It tasted of salt. He was in pain in more ways than one. His vision was ceasing but he was not going to give in and die by the sword of an opponent bigger than him.

Spitting blood towards the red coat he snarled as if he took offense to the gesture. Tightly grasping the sword in his hand, the red coat rushed towards Salty with the look to kill. On weary legs the former pirate extended his right arm to the side when his opponent raised his sword in the air. Despite the pain from his wound, Salty pushed the red coats' sword arm away from his body as his right arm quickly raised to aim at the exposed flesh of his opponent.

_Snick_...

The blade extended as it buried itself deep into skin. Blood poured quickly, covering the former pirates face in the warm red liquid. The red coat took in one last bloody gasp knowing that he was defeated. His sword fell to the ground with a loud thud as his body limped forwards to Salty. The weight was enough to cause the former pirate to fall to one knee with a grunt. Throwing the body to the ground, Salty took in a deep breath spitting out any blood and saliva. The sound of a twig snapping caused Salty to look up quickly only to find one of the injured red coats crawling to the safety of the forest.

Wearily standing on two shaky legs, Salty could see the look of despair in the soldier's eyes. There was no trust in them. Lord only knows that the soldier was thinking that he was going to be the last victim.

"Where is your camp?" Salty said slowly walking towards the red coat.

"If I told you, would I live?" The soldier looked to him with pleading eyes.

"Depends if what I heard was true about a slave woman who does not speak English."

There was a moment of silence as the red coat looked to his comrades who were now dead. Lying lifelessly on the ground with blood oozing from wounds made some time ago by the man who wanted to know where a woman he claims to be looking for is.

"You _will_ kill me no matter if I said it was true. I know your kind."

"I have no time to play with a man who crawls like a child and is afraid to die with dignity. Tell me where your camp lies and I will consider killing you slowly." Salty grabbed the man roughly by the collar of his shirt. The red coat did not have the strength to fight back against this mad man. He saw what he could do. He saw the weapon which was hidden in the sleeve of his jacket. He swallowed every last bit of spit that was in his mouth. Somewhere in the distance a bird flew from a branch as a hare used its muscular hind legs to run from the bird of prey.

"The camp is north from here. The woman you look for is within it. She is not hurt or has been touched. My commander treats her as if she were his slave." The soldier looked in the tired eyes of Salty. His body was shaking terribly from the fatigue. The stench of blood was strongly urging the wounded soldier to vomit, but he refrained from doing so for there was no food in his stomach.

"Thank you." Salty spoke placing his shaking hand on the soldier's neck. In one swift movement the hidden blade tasted blood once more for the second time that day. The hidden blade has tasted blood before. How much blood, Salty was not sure.

"_May the Holy Virgin seek your soul in a restful slumber and have your sins vanished in the face of God_." He spoke in Spanish making the sign of the cross and closing the dead soldier's eyes, "_in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit. Rest your soul from the damnation of this Earth and life._"

He felt solace. But not yet at peace with what he had just done. The bodies of the red coats will attract wolves to the stench of blood. It would even attract the attention of other patrols that search for their missing comrades. It would raise suspicion and raise awareness of Salty. Even so, the former pirate was too tired to have any thought of worry. His mind was clouded so no judgment could render any worry.

His body continued to shake when he stood on his feet. Hands twitched releasing the hidden blade with the sound of a '_snick_' as he caste his eyes on the ancient weapon used by men of a lineage dating far back to the crusades. Such a beautiful weapon that now marked the former pirate as an assassin even if he was not properly a part of the brotherhood. A mistake to even wear the brace and the blade: a disgrace. To have the blood of a pirate and that of a Templar: even God himself would banish him to the lowest circle of Hell to freeze alongside Lucifer for much more than treason.

All his enemies and Gray eye will see him as an assassin from now on. Something he long wished to never be part of. He longed wished to burn his past. He wanted to return to his life as a simple man with a loving wife and a strong daughter. He wanted that freedom. He wanted to be free from the chains that threaten to bind him to a post like a savage dog. Salty knew that he will rest when Gray eye was dead.

His former captain- his former mentor.

Closing his dark eyes at his own misfortune, Salty fell to the ground.

…and on the seventh day he rested.

* * *

_I stood at the edge of the building that we occupied. Down below I was reminded of what had happened. Stephan storming off in a rampage striking down any red coats and the roar of the crowd that followed behind us. Stephan had caused a ruckus for '_he_' was pushed too far when all was taken from him. When he walked to the man at the docks; that moment in time I looked away from the suffering of a man. The uncertainty that claimed our thoughts was only going to grow darker within these coming days._

_I have learned much but I know there was still more to learn. Assassins live their lives in secrecy, which not many see. The people that walk below us do not know that_ they_ exist. _We_ exist only in the image of the __**Wanted **__posters. They do not know of Templar's and the ever existing war that has been fought for centuries. I often wondered to myself about such things. I wondered if I could live like those below me where I had to worry about red coats that continued to patrol. Something was to change soon. Something was to come._

"_The people seem to have an ear for you. What of the things you lost?" Connor asked._

_I turned towards the men as Stephan looked down below at the docks. My wounded palm throbbed with pain as the cloth was wet with my own blood and that of red coats. I knew that I would have to clean and redress it. Today was no easy day for not only me but for other's as well._

"_The people listened to me only because I spoke the truth loud enough, which is worth one thousand times the contents of my footlocker. The English, they can keep my THINGS." He looked to Connor. Everything that he lost today was forever gone, but his stubborn pride was not broken. Maybe I did understand what it was that Stephan was feeling. The loss of what you hold dear to you. How could I have forgotten what had happened to me years ago as a child as I tried to defend my family from having to be harassed by red coats?_

"_You did well tonight."_

"_I said I'd buy you an ale when you and your friend helped me. In place of drink I offer you my allegiance, for what it's worth." Stephan said looking from Connor than to me than back to the assassin before him._

"_Your aid is welcome and I am grateful."_

_I walked towards them both. Placing myself in-front of Connor with my back towards him, I looked to Stephan._

"_If we are to have an alliance, I will be the first to ask for your forgiveness." I said offering my clean hand to Stephan. He looked to me with a hard glare as I held the same. The blood from my wound dripped to the tiles of the roof. My vision slightly becoming blurry due to exhaustion my body was enduring. "You did what you could, Stephan. If I would have listened more intently, I would have not tried to stop you." I confessed with shame._

"_Then you know how it feels to have them red coat bastards steal from you." He took my hand in a shake, "You two fight with much strength at heart. I will proudly fight by your sides in any war."_

_I could not help but smile lightly at this man. Letting go of my hand I took a side step. An alliance with Stephan was one of many that we could use. The more allies that we could have in this fight, the success of our fortune would be endless. This was a reason to continue fighting. There were people like Stephan who do not stand down and wait to die by the hand of the crown. People like him, people like _us _who do not listen like some dog. With a side glance, I wondered if Connor was capable of holding his part of a mentor: the _master assassin_ that was the highest and noblest of ranks._

"_Now, we need to find Samuel Adams." Connor spoke looking towards me. With a nod of my head I was going to need help from the orphans in order to find Mister Adams once again._

"_I may know where to start." I proudly chimed until my stomach growled. "But let us take a day of rest if not more. We need to address any wounds we may have endured in our fight. The God's above have granted me with this forsaken pain in my palm. Let us not forget that I like to eat much fill in food."_

_Both men looked to me and they laughed at my comment on food._

'Maybe this alliance will do us good_.' I thought trying to mask the pain I was feeling._

* * *

As the days began to wear on, the longer the stay in Boston the longer the hours have become in our search for Mister Adams. Using the orphans for information and to be our spies- no luck was coming our way. Stephan- as our new ally- was searching as well. He was somewhat in close contact with Mister Adams, but even he could not always keep close tabs on him. It would take time than what was intended. Patience was our only use. Praying would come and go as red coats were keeping close eyes on Connor and I.

In order to keep ourselves in incognito, Connor and I separated for a certain amount of time tearing down posters with our images on them or bribed heralds and paper boys to keep the attention away from us. When our task was done we would meet in a certain location and wait for what the day brought us whether it be walking the streets or heading to our rooms to rest and eat our fill in food. After wounding my hand, it healed but left a large scar on my palm which is a sheer reminder that there were to be many battle scars and wounds to come. Even in those days in Boston we had our space, but it was in the sunsets where I would be on the roof or at the docks where I found Connor sitting by my side.

We always sat in a comforting silence.

Today, the wanted poster was nailed to the fence for all to see. Anyone who passed us by made no indication on stopping to look at the two strangers. The image was my constant reminder that _they _saw me as a murderer. Even if the citizens only saw the darkened features of this person _I _would always have such a word threaten my very soul. _They _(the red coats)saw me as a threat. _They_ saw the man next to me as a bigger threat. As I continued to stare at my own image, I noticed that there was something strange about it. Below the **WANTED** words I saw handwriting that made me shudder. _I know who you are_. In a never ending defeat I placed my hand upon the paper and tore it from its post.

'_I pray he did not notice the words._' I thought.

"Something bothers you." The assassin spoke looking to the crumbled piece of paper in my hand.

"Many things bother me," I countered crumbling the paper threatening to tear it. Connor took away his attention from my hand. From a side glance I saw him waiting for me to confess; wanting to say something further. Somehow, I did not want him to know the dark thoughts that flooded my inner most part of my nature. What _I _hide and what I am _most _afraid of. I could not blame Connor for being observant of my actions. I could not blame anyone for how I felt or how I was seeing the ever changing world that _we _lived in.

The church bells rang in the distance-echoing in a rhythm that even the God's could enjoy. I looked to Connor as he still had his gaze on me. The distinction of his face was very strong- very masculine. He was more build than I. His eyes were darker than my own. These observations triggered the once dormant feelings that I held as a woman. It was in my instinct. It was in nature. I looked away quickly not wanting to keep my eyes on him longer than intended. Memories of looking into eyes when I was just a child hearing my mother tell me: _eyes were like an open door to the soul_. What I found in the eyes of Connor were more than enough to let me know that he was uncertain. A mixture of emotion was held within him even if he wore the stoic expression.

"…but I know many things bother you as well." The crumbled piece of paper fell from my grasp blowing in the gentle breeze.

"There will always be something that bothers _us_. Something so small could become something big enough to eat away at the thoughts we hold." He always had something wise to say. The thought itself made me smile a small smile. He took notice of my gesture and continued onward with what he had to say, "What bothers me the most will be my determination to accomplish the deeds given to me, whether it is to know what is right and what is wrong. _We _fight because there are those who are weaker than ourselves."

The look that he gave me was enough to make me flinch. It was easy to hide the emotions but I found it difficult to do so. The constant reminder of being a daughter of a pirate will always flow in my veins. The blood that is tainted may have given me strength, but carrying on was not so simple. How Connor could withstand his own origin was his own. I could never press the issue of his father: whom he did not know personally but what _he _heard about him. I could never press any issue for Connor still was a mystery to me as I was still to the assassin.

As the church bells continue to ring in the distance, I could hear the sound of a choir singing. Practicing for this coming Sunday where many of Boston's residence will attend to worship God and sing of blessing from the Bible. It was a beautiful piece of music but Connor was not so familiar with the liking of a church. There was still much that he could learn and I could learn… _if we found that time_.

"_We _fight for many reasons." I looked to the skies wondering what the God's are planning. Mesmerized by the clouds that were moving above us, my thoughts turned once again to when I was but a child. Connor seemed to do the same wondering which cloud caught my eyes. For that moment, I wanted to reach out and grab the assassin by the hand but I did not do such an action.

Instead I grabbed my hat, taking if off to let the breeze of the wind blow against my scalp. I even wanted to let my hair flow freely in the breeze but a few strands seemed to stand out blowing gently. I took my hand and placed it on my chest. Feeling the necklace I took it out from its hiding place inside of my clothes. The long chain with the cross and colors of my father's flag now lay within the palm of my scarred hand.

"The people we come across have their reasons to fight. You see the change in the way they walk and talk of almost daily things. It amazes me that someday we could be free from such a rule where no one can take our freedom." I confessed.

"No one has the right to take away what is given to us at birth. Freedom is but a word that one may use. How we live our lives under that very word, not even the king or the Templar's can take it away from _us_." He was determined.

…_Children of Adam and Eve._

Clenching at the cross within my hands, I did not want to hear what the voices said. After finishing the journal once again, I have yet to touch it. I have yet to decipher more of the world my father lived in. What he wrote and what he saw. Assassins and Templars, the massacre in a place known as Masyaf, the search for the treasure, and it all revolved around my father. His journey was his own as he left me here, by the side of an assassin. My own duty was for _freedom._

'_Admit to yourself that you are growing something for the native_.' And for once I did not agree nor disagree with the nature of my instinct to feel. Reality set itself within my own eyes. It was time to live _my _life. It was time to do what was right while my father, Salty Bones, was to do what he had to. Gray eye was not my enemy. Gray eye was the enemy of my father. My enemy was the Templar's and the crown that threaten these people not in Boston but in the colonies.

_They _threaten to take away the land of Connor's people.

_Bad blood runs deep in our veins._

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long to upload this chapter. Writer's block sucks at its worse. But I got me some good news my faithful devote readers: this chick just pre-ordered the new AC game. Though, I truly do hope it is the last of the games. I mean, all good things come to an end right? I will beg the creators to just… stop if they happen to make another game. I will literally fall to my knees and beg like a child.

Okay, I will not do that. I have too much stubborn pride for such an act.

Anyway, this chapter will make up for the last chapter I posted in a hurry. Hope it feeds your need for Assassin goodness or if you only read for Salty. I will admit I have so much fun writing Salty. He is just that character you want to… I don't know, fight by his side. Also, has anyone figured out what the treasure is? I truly want to know. It is not the apple of Eden. That is your first clue. _I watch too much History channel_.

Oh! The Boston Tea party is also on its way-that will be a fun little chapter that I will write next. Than we will have that ball rolling into you guessed it… _la revolution_! With the drama, the action, and let us not forget PIRATES! You heard me right fellow readers.

I thank the reviews and the favorites and followers. Thank you all a million times with my undivided love and grace. :D You all deserve a pat on the back.

**Reviews are always a welcome treat and it feeds my mind with what to write.**


	18. The Golden Vixen

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**Boston: December 16, 1773**

A clap of thunder in the distance followed by a cooling breeze made the weather colder; a storm was brewing. Looking up to the darkening clouds I took in the fresh scent of the coming rain. _Tlaloc _was to bring about the rain and soon a new God would bring the snow in this month of winter. Before the snow could fall, _Tlaloc_ will have to fertile the lands with the freezing rain. As the days changed, the months go by, the seasons also change. With this much change there was no saying as to what the Gods are planning for me. What the Gods were planning for us who will see more than our share of war.

Feeling the cool storm breeze against my face with these thoughts, I entered inside the tavern where the vagabonds and the whores mingled. Connor followed behind- keeping a close eye on those who held a gaze cold as ice. _This_ tavern was notorious for the scum of the Earth that even red coats stay away from. In some cases, a red coat or two would venture inside to _mingle_. Even a _faithful _man would have his fair share of the sinful lust that temps.

Every local drunk trying to find a _deal _on the next girl they would want to have on their lap (or in a bed) or a gambler taking a man's hard worked earnings where here in this tavern: '**Golden Vixen**'. Life for these people never came so simple. It was a fight (a brawl). It was survival. Most were worse than others. Some of these people found themselves in too deep in the life of the lowest. It was a life to either choose to live or throw away their money for pleasure or pain. Most men would seek pleasure as these women were not of a _clean_ breed. Most women would choose the life of a whore. You could earn money, steal money, or take money. Though, not all would forever live such a life. It was a scene that was not fit for me.

It also was not a scene Connor was used too. As far as I could tell, the native has never had such an encounter with these people. I never had much luck with people who have a common trait in their blood. My father has taught me to never venture inside of taverns such as this. Never mingle, never deal, and to never walk among them.

Yet, there was a difference between these people and myself:

_I am no vagabond_. '_You consider yourself a vagabond? You are the daughter of the infamous Salty Bones_.' My thoughts mocked.

"Why come to such a place?" Connor asked me with caution in his voice.

"Sometimes to find information, you will have to get your hands dirty. Not with blood, but with the dirt that lingers on the hands of sinners. A man who often visits here has something that is of use: so the orphans speak." Even I was being cautious with my own words. Was I nervous?

"You rely on children rather than your instinct. There is something that is far deeper than what you are telling me." I looked away from the assassin as we made our way through the crowds. I had no time to counter with words. In a place such as this, the wrong words or look could start a fight.

The stares that were given to the assassin and I were ones of lust from the women who wanted to take advantage of '_new_' customers. The other stare came from the men who were not so welcoming to strangers within this tavern that was in their territory. Of course, Connor and I were no regulars. It was places such as **Golden Vixen** where we could find the information we needed. It was the lowest of the low that held rumors and would give information; that people we seek could be within this place. The orphans for hire have told me to search for a tavern where a man has been searching for me. Or put in their words: '_stalking me_'.

I wanted to keep such a thing to myself, but Connor was by my side when an orphan found his way through the alleyways to find us. Such information could not go unnoticed by the assassin and it was his choice to come along with me to meet this man who was keeping his eye on me.

The stench of alcohol and sweat within the tavern was enough to make bile rise to my throat and out of my thoughts. However, we continued onwards through the crowded tavern. I had to hold my head high with determination to find _him_. The next roll of the dice could be of a big win or of a loss if I were to gamble with this. As long as I kept to my own even the scum would not bother me or Connor.

Musicians played their instruments as a woman sang in a language I did not understand. It was beautiful but the moment I found an empty table away from the bustle of the lively tavern, I noticed _him _sitting with his eyes watching two players gamble away their coins for a bit of fun. Connor pulled a chair that was next to me, sitting down watching and waiting.

"Is that him?" He asked me.

Looking to the assassin I said nothing. Before long the man stood from the table, grabbing a pitcher of ale in his hand, and walked towards us. I stiffened my stance as a strand of my black hair fell in my face. Connor did not react but watched as the man cautiously moved to the empty chair in-front of us; placing his ale on the table. Shaggy dark hair pulled back by a simple tie making him have a large forehead with a strong jaw line. His skin was lightly tanned compared to his very dark clothing. What caught my attention was a small scar on his left cheek covered by stubble of a beard. Even his knuckles were scarred. He might have been a few years older than my father by the wrinkles near his eyes, but he held a smile on his lips.

_He was a pirate_. I indicated quickly. This was not what I had expected.

"_I was beginning to doubt you would show your face. Children of pirates are always so weary of their surroundings and of their parent's enemies_." His eyes looked to me with intensity than to Connor as his smile grew wider like a lynx. My fingers flinched at his daunting words of mockery. He knew; of course he would know. "_Assassin and pirate blood do not mingle with each other under such 'circumstances'. It is rare for such to cross paths. It has been so after… Edward._"

"Speak in a language that I can understand." Connor spoke through gritted teeth; his fist clenching as he did not understand _our _language. The man chuckled with a shake of his head speaking again in Spanish which further angered the assassin. He was mocking Connor as he clicked his tongue with a sadistic smile knowing that the native did not understand a single word he said.

"_A sharp tongue your boy has, seed of Salty Bones. I have heard stories of this _'_native_'_. He holds a familiar resemblance to a man and with a mouth as sharp as his bite… Your God seems to favor you and the man you travel with, with great fortune. Tainted blood will forever be tainted._ Or should I continue to mock him further?" The pirate scratched the bridge of his nose as I knew we were going nowhere with this conversation. From a side glance Connor was ready to release his hidden blade into the throat of this pirate, but I wanted to keep firm.

In a place such as this filled with vagabonds, fresh spilled blood would attract these wolves.

"There is much reason as to why you wanted to speak with those of your enemy." I stated trying to keep myself calm under the tension of both men staring coldly at each other. I also did not want to say too much in-front of Connor that could make him ask questions about other matters that were my own.

The use of names was not even needed.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, is it not?" The pirate asked keeping his wide smile on his lips. "Let me offer you two an ale for peace, neh?"

"The enemy of _our _enemy is not our friend. Why do we need to listen to a criminal who has nothing to give but mock with a tongue that I want to tear out?" I sighed at Connor's threatening manner.

"A savage dog…" Before the pirate could finish his sentence, Connor roughly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt which caused me to place my hand on the assassin's arm. The table shook as the ale fell to the floor spilling. My grip on the assassins arm did not budge nor did Connor look to me. He only kept his angered eyes on the pirate as I could see that his grasp on the collar tighten.

"Ease yourself when it comes to men such as him." I said to the assassin through gritted teeth. "To threaten would not give us answers we solemnly seek. Even filth such as he has some information that is of use."

"Listen to your comrade. _She _knows for her father was like me once, only… my memory deludes me… he was just as troublesome." The pirate chuckled. I glared at his direction but there was also question within my angered gaze. I was certain he could see it but he did not speak openly about it.

Keeping my grip on Connor's arm, he let the pirate go in one rough push. Falling back in his chair with a grunt, I glared at the man with a cold stare. We have caught the attention of some shady characters who kept their glance on the assassin and me after our display. It would seem that we have threatened one of their own, but even then _they _did not know what was happening. Still, the loud voices of those inside the tavern did not care for our business unless they wanted to keen in on it. The singer continued to sing in her language as the fiddle and the other instruments were slowing into a soft tune.

"I know you two search for a man. I will not say a name, but I have his location." Fixing himself properly with his smile gone from his lips when he came to a realization that his ale was spread on the floor; sighing at the loss of his drink, the pirate took out a piece of paper from his coat pocket. Handing it to Connor, the assassin grabbed it with caution between his fingers. Opening it he looked to the pirate with uncertainty and anger still in his dark eyes.

"You sure this is the place?" He was doubtful.

"I am certain. Orphans may be little thieves and can con the best of us, but give them a few coins and a push they can be like paperboys shouting out the daily news." He became serious. The mockery left him as there was no indication of anymore play.

"I hope you are certain for this information that was given." Connor stood from his seat knowing he no longer needed to be by my side.

"I have heard stories about the brotherhood from my days at sail. Stories even Salty Bones knew for he has come across _your _kind, boy. Alas, I will tell you some other time when you do not threaten me. I must speak with your friend alone. There is much to discuss on other matters not pertaining to the _liberation _of the colonies. I am certain that is why you two were seen fighting the red coats."

I kept silent watching the pirate. Anymore words that were slipping from his mouth could get me into more trouble. Not to mention the fact that I still failed to tell Connor about my father who was after his former captain and I held onto his journal which talks of treasure from Masyaf.

"It is more than liberation," Connor said looking away from the pirate and onto me. "Do not stay longer than intended. When you are done find me in the location given by this man. We have _much _that is needed for discussion."

I continued to say nothing as the assassin turned from us and headed out of the tavern leaving me alone with the pirate. Looking to the man before me, he held no expression. He held no emotion. The mocking playfulness of this man was long gone and everything around us became tense air. It was as if we were invisible to the people around us.

"Why are you helping," was my first question to the pirate before me.

"_Child, there is still much you need to learn. Gray eye is in an alliance with Templars, but even the pirate captain cannot be held by a simple leash. It was my captain who has chosen me to find you. Find you and dispose of you because he believes that your father is an assassin._" He spoke clearly, leaning in on the table. My heart clenched in my chest. This was becoming too much for me to bear.

My father has dug himself in too deep in his own grave and he was going to drag me down with him. The past of my father has caught up with not only him but with me as well. It would only be a matter of time before I meet with Gray eye and Connor will not only be in two different wars, but I will drag him down with me into the life of pirates. I sighed thinking too much of my predicament.

"_Then why have you yet to kill me_?" I asked through the sudden silence.

"_I had to be sure that it was you I was looking for. I do not hold much of a grudge against your father as I have had in the past for what he did. There is still much for you to know in due time. Be wary when the time comes to meet Gray eye. He has _'_something_'_ planned for your father. As of now, be an ally for the assassins and I shall keep my ears and eyes open. I fear war is not far off. When this war happens, all sides will meet in the battlefield. There will be much blood… much death… madness… Your friends will become foes. Foes will become friends._"

"_I will not say I place my trust in you for your act earlier. Mocking the assassin was not something I will take likely for he has much on his mind as I have._" I said.

"_I cannot harm him for the Templar's are suspicious. He looks like their grand master but even I cannot be determined to know if he be the son. I am not aware even if the grand master knows; much less Gray eye cares not for him. Your father and any assassin allies are in the way of his wrath._"

The music sung by the woman faded out as she murmured the very last words to her song. Lowering her voice to an alto tone, the fiddle was the last to go silent as the string of the instrument echoed through the tavern.

* * *

**Later that night…**

I felt uneasy after the day's events. My mind was racing with uncertain thoughts. Was I part of some plan? Was I to keep silent? The moment I left the tavern, night has already settled itself. There were no grey skies and the smell of the rain was long gone leaving only the stars to shine bright. The wind was chiller than it has been early in the day, but something did not feel right nor did it settle all too well in my bones. A patrol of red coats were running in my direction with their rifles held close to their chests, but they did not stop in-front of the **Golden Vixen **tavern.

Curious as to why a patrol was running with haste, I followed close behind as more patrols were coming from all sides of a street. Keeping to the shadows in the direction they were headed towards, I could smell the sea air coming in a close distance. The sound of a large crowd and splashing of water mixed with yells echoed throughout causing me to fasten my pace into a sprint.

Running out to the docks I saw a group of men on ships throwing crates into the water- all the while fighting off any red coats that were trying to stop them from achieving their task. Breathing in through burning lungs and sore legs I ran towards one of the large British ships.

Fighting did not cease once I bordered the main deck. The sight of blood from both soldiers and those fighting them was present-though so far there were no dead as far as I knew. But before I could ask what was happening, a shout from one of the red coats triggered an instinct inside of me to defend myself and those around me from harm. Like a swarm of angry wasps, red coats boarded with their rifles drawn among us. Men who were not throwing crates overboard were fighting off the soldiers as I spotted Connor jamming his hidden blade into the throat of a solider. He threw the dead man over board as he saw me kick one of the soldiers to the floor. Balling my fists tightly, I punched the soldier in the jaw instantly-and thankfully- making him lose conscience.

"Another one of them _patriots _has showed their face!"

"Do not stand here waiting for me to command you like dogs, go after him!"

From a side glance I saw two red coats being ordered to attack me as their patrol leader pointed a finger in my direction. Mentally cursing I defended myself again when a soldier without his rifle ran into me with haste. On instinct, I pushed him against the edge of the ship and with a rough shove on his back, the soldier yelled as he made contact with the water.

Turning, I was being cornered but not _yet_ willing to give in. I took out my dagger holding it tightly in my grasp as I frantically looked from one red coat to the other. My hat no longer on my head and my hair was loosely falling in my face, I rushed forwards as one soldier held his rifle with the bayonet in-front of him, but I deflected the blade with my own as my free hand grabbed onto the rifle as the other red coat took a step back. His comrade-whose rifle I was holding- was cut by my dagger in his fingers. Yelling loudly as the blood trickled down his hand, I hit him with the butt of his own weapon as the second soldier began to jab at me with the bayonet.

Side stepping and using my dagger to clash against the weapon, Connor tackled the soldier before the bayonet found itself in my shoulder. My hair now disheveled as sweat was causing a few long strands to stick on my face. I heard an all too familiar sound of '_snick_'. The assassin's hidden blade lodged itself into the soldier's throat instantly killing him. Letting out a breath of air I looked to a figure behind the assassin. Another red coat rushed towards him with rifle in hand with the bayonet at the end. Caught off guard as his hidden blade was still inside the throat of the dead soldier, Connor was cut on the cheek trying to move from the rushing soldier.

Though, the soldier could not boast about the wound he inflicted upon the assassin when a large butcher knife was cut down into his shoulder. I stood with wide eyes as Stephan struck the red coat once more with his weapon. Gurgling through heavy blood soaked breathes, the soldier was dead instantly. He fell on the deck as his blood mixed with that of his comrade.

"We've done it!" Mister Adams shouted with triumph.

What it was that _we _have done, I was still unclear about. I have arrived too late to have any knowledge of what it was the men were throwing over board or why it was that red coats were attacking other than defending their ships. My only guess was that it pertained to the tea and _we_- the patriots (as called by the red coats) - were sending a message to the crown.

Those that have crowded around to watch as we all fought against the red coats, I wanted to lean against the side of the ship to rest. Connor stood on his feet retracting his blade. Blood painted his hands in a deep red color. Looking away from his hands I made eye contact with him. We were going to have a long talk after we were done with what was needed of us. My hat was long gone and I had no tie to hold back my hair. I knew that it would show off my femininity as strands of hair framed my face. When I heard footsteps coming our way I looked to familiar faces and one new person I have yet to be introduced too. They themselves looked to me with questioning looks but it was short lived.

However, we all had no time for questions or introductions of a person I did not know as we all had the same suspicion of being watched. Quickly I moved to the side of the assassin with my hair blowing lightly in the cold wind. The sweat was making me shiver with the fatigue of my body wanting to lean against the assassin for support. Now that my disguise was beginning to fail (of all places and times) there was no telling what these men will think of me. All that _I _have worked hard for was being thrown out the window into broken glass. _Now is not the time to think of such a thing_.

"Are those men," I trailed off with my eyes looking from one of the men to the other; my mind registering their faces to that of the men whose pictures were hanging on the walls in the basement of the manner, "they are." I answered my own question.

Connor made no move as his glare was kept on the other side of the docks where (almost in the shadows) were men glaring with cold gazes back at the assassin. Even if they were farther away from where we stood, they saw something in Connor that made them sneer. The thought of my earlier encounter with the pirate nagged at my mind when he spoke of Connor looking like their grand master.

"Connor we saved the last for you!" Stephan shouted as he held a crate in his bloody hands making me leave my thoughts.

Looking back to him, he handed it to Connor who held it within his own grasp. Raising it high in the air the crowd cheered at this accomplishment. I was not sure on how to feel about all that has happened within our stay in Boston. In fact I was not even sure if I could feel anything at all after seeing more blood being shed all for the sake of throwing crates over the ship. With these men keeping their stare on us, Connor walked towards the edge and dropped the crate into the water which the men looked with disgust on their face and with much anger; they turned to the side to leave knowing now that that assassin was a new threat.

This was the Connor's chance to go after them. To end their threat to his people, but Connor stood at the edge of the docks keeping his eyes on the now distant men. Killing Johnson now would not give him the answers the assassin needed. It would draw the Templar's to further whatever plans they plan. The pirate gave me little information for he did not care for the task of Templar's. It was not his concern and he never truly spoke much of them.

"Best we get out of here, eh?" Stephan commented keeping me from thinking any further.

Connor looked to his ally with a simple nod of the head. Without saying another word, Stephan understood and turned around to run. Following the actions of others around us, both Connor and I ran from the docks. Into the shadows of the alleyways were we were going to find our way through these questions that ran through our minds. We had many tasks ahead of us that involved Templar's and to liberate the colonies from English control. To put enough weight on our shoulders- Connor and I were going to have to side step and keep out of the eyes of pirates now allied with Templar's. _We _had to keep out of the wandering eye of a pirate captain who my father still is searching for…

…Gray eye.

Liberation… Control… Oppression… Bloodlines… When will it all end?

* * *

**A/N:** And another chapter bites the dust… :D I am terribly sorry for the very long wait for this chapter. Working and such has been getting the best of me. I never seem to find the time and when I do I am always tired. Excuses… Excuses Owl… *Slaps self with motivation* gotta get my war face to super mode.

A lot has happened in this chapter as you may all know. We meet a pirate, the Boston Tea party, even our Templar's. the next chapter will… Oh! I had to stop myself. It is a special treat for ya'll. Let's just say that Salty is not dead. I repeat: Salty is not dead!

**A Dedication:**

As we may all know about the Boston bombing it truly was a tragedy. What also happened in my home state of Texas where a factory exploded was just the cherry on the tragic cake. I pray all goes well for those affected by these events and past events- in this country or in any other country where tragedy hits home. I am truly proud to be American and I will show my pride in any way possible when it comes to this story.

God bless all!


	19. The Throne Crown of a Sea Dog

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**A Salty and Haytham chapter! Just for the reader's! :D**

* * *

"_So crawl on my belly, 'till the sun goes down. I'll never wear your broken crown. I took the road and I fucked it all away. Now in this twilight how dare you speak of grace."- Mumford and Sons: Broken Crown_

* * *

He was burning.

Shaking and mumbling incoherent words in his not so lucid state. Blood trickled down the side of his lip from a wound that has yet to heal. Everything around him was in blurry disarray. All was spinning. His eyes moved back and forth as he was coming in and out of consciences. He felt as if he were dying. He felt weak. He felt cold. But there was a fire that was burning to the side of him. The flame crackling from the twigs feeding it-trying to keep him from getting cold from the sweat that was coming down his brow. Even the blanket that was covering him felt as if he were stuck.

He continued to mumble arching his back and kicking out his legs like a man possessed. The need to scream out any resentment burned his lungs. It was there on his tongue. When he went to open his mouth nothing but a whimper came from his lips. Tears were being shed from not his pain of fatigue, but from pain that _he _was not aware of his surroundings. _He _could feel regret burying itself deep into his flesh and into his bones. It was a strong feeling when the air in his lungs expanded. His chest rising and falling with his heart beating faster as once more; he wanted to yell.

Unknowingly to the fatigued mumbling man- on the other side of the fire was a dark figure sitting. He was watching with dark eyes that were intent with observation. The light of the flame casting a glowing shine on the figures eyes like a predator of the night. Sitting calmly with his arms on his legs and his fingers interlocking with each other; it was the last sight_ Salty_ saw before he succumbed to his fatigue once again.

The last words coming from his mouth: _Adolfa_.

Alas, it was not his wife.

Letting out a low sigh, Haytham stood to his feet to see if Salty was dead. Watching his chest rise and fall, the former pirate was indeed alive. Very fatigued from the dark circles under his eyes, but Salty was alive none-the-less. The past few days can change a person appearance (Haytham was indeed surprised to see the dramatic change). The wound that was given during his altercation with the red coats was covered, but the blood kept seeping through the cloth. The Templar placed the sole of his boot on the former pirates hand to move him. Nothing happened. He was deep in sleep. He was deep in a slumber he longed for- for however long was needed.

It has been three hours since the Templar found the former pirate in such a state. _A rather pathetic state_… surrounded by dead red coats as blood painted the grass and weapons scattered throughout like a small battle took place between two different armies. It was not so much as that. Haytham was (he admitted to himself in his thoughts) '_impressed_' that Salty could handle such opponents. Though, on further inspection the former pirate carried the hidden blade with blood still fresh and dripping from its edges. How Salty obtained such a weapon, Haytham was not so sure.

_Why_? The question would have to be asked at another time.

Salty looked vulnerable.

_Was it the act of mercy or was it a debt that needed to be paid_? The Templar has asked himself that many times when he discovered Salty's almost lifeless body clinging to life. He could have killed Salty to save the former pirate any misery. Killing was not an act of mercy for the Templar. Haytham was not one to look after the wounded nor was he going to show any act of compassion to _this _man. Reckless was _one_ of many words to describe Salty. Yet, there was something about him that the Templar saw within himself. Even though Haytham was as cynical and jaded, there was fight in the former pirate.

His dark eyes kept their stare on the lying man before him. Haytham's thoughts went to that of when he-himself- was once in the position of being vulnerable. Wounded, a fever, on the verge of death itself, until a man who the Templar respected (even with his life) took care of him in his time of need. The memory of _Holden_ was still fresh in his mind-even though the man has been dead for many years. He took his own life for his own reasons.

_Such thoughts have been buried for many years_… His mind retorted. The Templar agreed even though what Haytham was taught as a child was minuscule to that of Templar teachings. All that his father said in his youth was still lingering in his mind. Haytham often wondered how he would have changed as a man if his father-if his family- was still alive. The ways of assassin's and Templar's varied in belief, but the Templar way always overcame that of assassins.

_It is not mercy that made you do it. It was not the debt that needed to be repaid. It was because he still has a family that loves him. His emotions and the instinct of a man protecting what is his, is something that __YOU __could never-would never-should __NEVER__- have._

And again, Salty arched his back and kicked out his legs. He clenched his teeth throwing back his head. The necklace he wore was exposed. His hands were clawing at the dirt below him like a mad man. Haytham has come to a conclusion that the former pirate was only having nightmares… nightmares that the Templar no longer had. Nights were nothing but a black mass of nothingness.

'_This will be a long night_.' He thought to himself as he walked back to his spot near the fire.

…another endless night where nothing but black mass of nothingness.

* * *

_Children of Adam and Eve…_

_They stole the treasure from us…_

_Wake up…_

_Wake up…_

_WAKE UP!_

_Dreams were not always so pleasant. Pleasant was never comforting. Comforting became a nightmare._

_He struggled to reach the surface as the water from the sea was being swallowed in large gulps. He did not know how to swim. He did not know what to do. Arms were desperately trying to move through the rough waters as the sea was attempting to swallow him whole. His lungs burned with this intense pain wanting to breathe. His vision fading… His mind becoming numb… The longer he held his breath underneath the water; he knew he was going to die. Eyes looked frantically in the dark abyss as debris and bodies of his crew members floated or were being pulled down into the sea to meet their fate._

_He was alone. He was scared. He was drowning._

_The blood from the dead or wounded colored the dark sea in a mixture of dark cold and red. Blood in the water would attract the sharks instantly if he was not above the water and onto land. His heart was beating faster thinking of this new way to die. Eaten by a shark, wounded from the attack, debris falling top of him, __DROWNING__- many ways to die by the sea. She claims her victims not caring who they be._

_It was then that he felt something grab hold of his arm. Pulling roughly at his arm, he gulped in more sea water. The last thing that he could remember was being pulled from the rough waters to the sound of men barking orders and fresh air of the salty sea. In the sunlight waved a flag whose colors were blurry. It was held high with much pride. The flag…_

_WAKE UP…_

* * *

Two days have passed in a gruesome effortless task for the Templar. Salty has yet to awake from his slumber on the forest floor. He still thrashed about. He still sweated. Salty was like a new born pup: stupid, defenseless, and unaware of its surroundings looking for its mother teat. Haytham felt like a nanny, like a slave, like some caretaker for the sick or elderly. He hated it. He hated the very idea. He was enraged by it. If it were not for his patience, he would have killed Salty.

The two days as Salty slept, Haytham had little. He thought of abandoning the former pirate and leaving him with the wolves, but the Templar thought better of it. It was cruel. It was below him. Instead, he watched from a distance as Salty would continue to mumble and squirm (like an insect) until it was time for the former pirate to awaken.

…and he did.

Two days in an endless dream, Salty sat himself up despite the pain jolting through his body. The blanket that was over him fell to his lap and his hair was disheveled. A gust of chilling cool air blew in his sweaty skin causing a sudden chill to go down his spine. Unaware of where he was or to who was taking care of him, the former pirate looked with disgust towards the Templar as his vision became smooth and clear. Clenching his fists with twitching fingers to trigger the hidden blade, Haytham was in a foul mood to deal with the temperamental man.

"At least you should thank a man for having taken care of you before you open wounds and fall to the ground like a pup learning to hunt." Haytham sneered.

"I did not ask for _your _help." Salty retorted through a rough cracked-voice. "I killed the red coats without any assistance from others. They took my wife. They may have killed her father. They killed a pirate who was a crew member of _Ghost of Davy Jones_."

Haytham smirked as he picked at a piece of dried meat within his hands. Listening to the once infamous pirate through a voice that sounded like a frogs, was a little too much for the Templar. _It was humorous_. Salty could smell the food, having forgotten that he was talking- he looked to the piece with a rumble in his stomach. Even his mouth was dry as the saliva began to make him salivate from the lack of food and water. In such a state, the lack of food in the stomach could be used for many things. Information was one such thing, though Haytham still held resentment for the former pirate and that of Gray eye-who was to make port within the next month or two.

"You are like a dog waiting for its master to feed you. If it were not for me having you rest for two _miserable _days, you would have been food for the wolves and bears. The birds could have picked your wounded flesh from bones. Old habits of a pirate never disappear." The Templar mocked lightly with a shrug of his shoulders.

Salty looked from the food within the Templar's hands and sneered once again, "Do you want a simple 'thank you'? If it was miserable as you claim, you may as well have killed me. I was here lying on the ground. I was defenseless, yet you- Grand Master- did not do such an act when you had the opportunity."

"No," The Templar through his piece of food towards the former pirate, "when I found you lying lifeless near dead red coats, I wanted answers. Killing you in the state you _were _in would have been a blessing. It would have saved me the trouble of watching you in misery. Maybe your family would have not bothered caring for you if they saw what I saw."

Salty caught the meat in his dirty sore hands. The simple movement sent a slight jolt of pain through his muscles making them twitch underneath his clothes, but Haytham was once more digging deep into the former pirate's skin.

"What answers do you seek from me? There is nothing to tell you of anything of importance. My family has seen me at my breaking point. Nothing makes you any special for if you want to continue barking like a rabid Templar dog on a tight leash." Salty stuck a piece of meat in his mouth, savoring the taste of wild hare. His stomach urging him to chew faster, to eat more fill of meat, but the faster and more the former pirate could consume could lead him to vomit.

"How did you acquire a hidden blade? What do you know about assassins?"

There was a momentary pause in Salty's chewing when the sentence left Haytham's mouth. His body moved in a painful flinch. These actions were carefully scrutinized by Haytham's dark eyes. The grin that was placed on his aging lips was now a fine line of annoyance and a hint of irritation.

"I will not speak of such things that I do not know or understand. I am reminded of a story I once heard. A pirate was casted away only to learn the ways of assassins. I can never recall his name." Salty was rambling as another piece of meat went in his mouth. Clearly, the man was still fatigued and weak. The hidden blade that was still upon his arm was hidden by his long sleeve. _Or_ he was playing stupid to step away from the question.

_This was not Salty._ Haytham thought with a twitch of a finger.

"No matter," Haytham stood to his feet which Salty looked to the Templar, "I have my own matters that I have come across. If you do not want to answer a simple question do not play stupid with me. You know well that I do not respond to such a pathetic attempt to keep away from questions. Weak, tired, and hungry are no excuses."

Salty swallowed his food. The former pirate's cold eyes looked to that of Haytham. Through his tired gaze and sore body, the former pirate knew there was something more to what was behind the dark eyes of the Templar. Something that was broken beyond any repair. One in the same was both these men, yet it was their choice in life that made them different. Haytham only used the question of the hidden blade to hide another purpose.

There was a reason he kept Salty alive these two days. There was a reason as to why he did not leave when he had a chance. He should have killed him and took all his possessions…

_Did he look at the book_? He thought. There was no indication that Haytham would know about Robert de Sable and his relation to Salty… and Seliah. There was no end to anything. Even so, the former pirate could not hold fate by the throat. It was all gathering together in a messy puzzle that has yet to be put together.

"I make no excuses. How I have acquired the weapon within my arsenal is my own story. You were not there when I took this from an assassin. I should have said the same for you with your own hidden blade, but I was not there when you acquired it." Salty looked to the sleeve where the hidden blade hides. _I am an assassin in the eyes of those against them. I am an assassin in the eyes of this Templar_.

Haytham shifted his weight to the other side of his body. Salty was in his own mindset of the hidden blade that the Templar could only glance at his own weapon that he acquired and used to kill its master. The brotherhood has changed drastically from the days of the crusades.

"What you do from here is your own doing, not one of mine. Your former captain is still _your_ threat. I expect you to take care of it once you find your wife. Should I see you in the state you are in again, I will end your misery." The Templar said coming out of his own thoughts.

"You do not claim me as one of your own!" Salty snapped causing him to cough violently.

"The moment you placed the hidden blade on your arm, you chose your side. Those pirate's you once called crewmates, will see you as an assassin."

"I chose no side. I had to do what was needed to keep alive and find answers as to where my wife be." His throat burned. His throat was sore. His voice was rougher. "Bad blood should not be giving words of wisdom to that of bad blood. If _I_ see you in any state as well, I will kill you without mercy. Though, I still hold true to some of the pirate code that I owe you a debt." Even if it was poison coming out of Salty's mouth, he had to oblige by the code that he owed Haytham for doing such an act even when the Templar could have easily killed him. But why did he not do such a thing? Salty could only wonder.

"When the time comes for the debt to be paid, Salty, it may not be for some time. I am reminded the words I once said to you on our first meeting. I cannot convince you but in time I see you will come to join us. No matter how you see it, the former pirate will always crawl back to his old ways."

"Then tell me Haytham, what answers are you trying to find?" Salty once more coughed.

"What answers are _YOU _trying to find?" He questioned back.

Walking past the former pirate who took a bite from the meat, Haytham went to his steed that was tied to one of the trees. With his pack and belongings on the animal for another days travel to Boston, Haytham was not so sure of what it was that was bringing about these doubts and uncertainty. The human emotion that was lingering still in the Templar's mind could only be pushed aside with his task to the Templar code: to his journey, to understanding, to the growing problem that has risen within the colonies.

Salty still felt the fatigue in his body. The pain was there but he had to keep moving. When Haytham had mounted his steed without much word, the former pirate was now left to his own devices. There was a pack of dried meats; water in the goatskin, his horse neighing not too far away, Salty was once again left alone.

…alone with his thoughts.

_Children of Adam and Eve_…

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter was inspired by the song Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons.

All will come to light when the story continues to progress. Next chapter will be exciting. I am sorry to those who do not like slow stories but this is important for the plot. I was thinking that this story will be no more than 30 chapters, but I guess that is changing. Salty and Seliah will reunite later, Adolfa will be rescued later, Gray eye will make his appearance again when we least expect him too…

As some of you may or may not know, I also bring in some of Haytham's past into this chapter. I have read the book (which was in Haytham's P.O.V). It gives the reader a _better _understanding of Haytham's thoughts and actions throughout the third game and the time we do not see him until he meets Connor. I will not spoil too much about it, but if y'all get the chance go and read the Assassin Creed book. It holds so much information that I know many have questions too. Trust me, when I read it I was pretty shocked about why Haytham did what he did.

I also wanted to show that both Haytham and Salty are (in a way) respecting each other. They are coming to terms that yes they are different in their belief, but both men are not going to fight against each other any time soon… Because we all know what happens to Haytham… *hit with a brick*

You readers are awesome! *begins writing next chapter with a large bump on head* T^T


	20. Sharp Fangs

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**Two Months Later…**

Her heart was beating like a pacing war drum. The cold winter air burned her lungs as she ran from her captors. Muscles in her legs were growing tired, sore, burning- but she never looked back as yells were being made by a commanding English voice. So thick was this voice calling out through the snow covered forest, it echoed causing winter birds to fly from their branches catching unwanted attention by four wolves chasing after a lone woman.

The soldiers were struck down in a violent manner. The red coats were not given a chance to fight against their attackers who struck quickly without any given warning. A fresh clean kill made by men who have had their share of bloodshed throughout the years. The blood of the English soldiers painted the snow red as shadows moved thoroughly through the trees. Following closely to frantic imprints of a human woman and that of wolves; they were getting close, but how close were they? Maybe not as close as the wolves and another more fortunate foe with the skill of many who came before him from the land of desert.

The paws of wolves were built to run through thick forest and heavy snow. Their sense of smell was built to follow their prey and their knowledge as working as a pack is what made wolves a success in the wild. A success but also a dangerous carnivore with fur of beauty and a disease-that if bit- would make a man go feral. For a lone woman who escaped the watchful eyes of red coats, the forest was her means of closure: her means of safety. Though, mother nature never fortuned unprepared beings. The snow was thick and deep that the woman had the trouble of trying to keep from falling.

Growls and howls from the wolves were closing in on this woman quickly. She could see them running like shadow demons. They moved through the trees with their slim toned frame. Fangs were bared as their hot breath was seen as well as her own heavy breathing and fast beating heart. Her blood was rushing through her veins as one of the wolves surprised her by jumping in-front of her. The woman shrieked loudly by this sudden surprise. Stumbling back in the snow, the wolf snarled at her with its fur raised. Sharp canines snapped fiercely with its tongue between its teeth and going back behind. The other three large beasts now surrounded her copying that of the first wolf that was most-likely the Alpha of this pack.

The woman could not back away from the wolves for if she made an attempt to move even a hand, one wolf would snap its jaws and move forwards to stop her from doing so. The red coats were soon to arrive and kill these wolves and take back the woman as their slave. This was something she no longer wanted. She has been captive for months without any sign of anyone freeing her from the grasp of the soldiers. Now, in a twisted fate, this woman was to be killed by wolves.

Death was not so pleasant nor were these wolves going to let her go. The Alpha wolf made its move to jump, but something stopped it from achieving its movement. It moved fast that the human eye could not directly see what it was that made the Alpha wolf slide a few yards. A trail of blood smeared the white snow as the three other wolves turned their attention to their Alpha. Their ears were held high when a loud whistle like sound made its presence known.

The woman stared with wide eyes as an arrow was sticking out of the stomach of the wolf- now dead. Without warning, another wolf was struck by an arrow and soon the wolves were struck down by more arrows. All four wolves considered dead by an unknown marksman hiding within the white forest of the winter. The woman did not-could not- move for she was too scared as blood painted the white canvas. The sound of the winds blowing through was eerie as the whistles grew louder but stopped suddenly.

Footsteps were making their way cautiously towards her and within the distance a lone figure held a bow within his hands. He looked like _DEATH_. She became fearful not knowing if this figure was to harm her. He walked closer as the woman could see that this man wore a hood over his head with the tip looking like a beak of an eagle. His clothing, his weapons, she was not sure if he was friend or foe. If he were foe she would rather die than to be captured once again to serve people she cared not for. If friend, she could consider the help.

Now that this figure was in-front of her, looking down with dark eyes, she saw that he was a native. The native looked to this woman when he noticed something _familiar_ about her. Hazel eyes looked to him as what the native saw was not the woman who he saved from a pack of wolves but that of another who he knew. This woman with hazel eyes, long dark hair, and tanned skin- she reached out with a shaky hand thanking the God's for they could not forsake her…

But the woman fell back in the snow with eyes closed. Now she rests with a beating heart and a calm expression set on her face. _They _saw this scene unfold from behind the trees. It was time to collect what they were after.

"How unfortunate that she had to run not knowing _we _killed the red coats that kept her as a slave. Tsk, tsk…"

Connor stood quickly as he took another arrow, placing it on the bow and pulling it on the string that held the weapon together. Walking behind the assassin in a steady pace, he turned pointing the arrow towards men coming from around the trees. Before him stood three men- two of which drew pistols towards Connor in instinct preparing to defend if a fight were to happen. The one with no weapons within his grasp had eyes as blue as the sky and light shaggy hair like the color of sand. His skin was as pale but not so much as the color of snow. He was tall- maybe a few inches taller than Connor- maybe a year or two older, but the man's blue eyes held a cold gaze.

The way they were dressed was not that of any soldier the assassin was familiar with. These men were also not some simple farmers… These men were not from the area.

"There is no need to be hasty. I am here for the woman, nothing more." The man spoke in a calm manner. His accent thick-almost like the pirate he met back in Boston at **Golden Vixen**- though his accent was something Connor has never heard.

'_Could they be pirates_?' He wondered.

"Why?" Connor stated with his stance not changing as the man with blue eyes took a step closer, but Connor was prepared to attack for he was a skilled marksman with the bow. The two men with pistols would not be fast enough to fire a shot at the assassin. Still, it was best to be cautious than to run into a fight with weapons made for more modern times.

_A true handicap_…

'_Damn_.' He mentally cursed.

"Put away your _primitive_ weapon. Let us talk with some _civility_ rather than ravenous dogs out for a piece of meat, shall we? Man to man. Our… _captain_… is not so pleased with what has happened to her and if he knows that a… _assassin_," Connor lightly flinched as the man knew quickly what he was, "has possession of this woman, he will make for an attack. You see, he does not value the lives of assassins no matter their origin."

"I will not give you what you seek. This woman will not be in your hands. Leave or I will be rid of a threat such as yourselves." He warned.

The man with the blue eyes sneered at the assassin. A once calm demeanor made the man look like a feral dog. Looking away from Connor, the man spoke in a language the assassin did not understand to the two men beside him. Complying too whatever it was that he said (though they wanted to keep their weapons within range) their pistols were lowered but Connor kept his guard.

"Fine, I will not speak any further. I tried to be civil but it went in vein like that of the man who recklessly placed her in the hands of red coats." The man sighed with a mock annoyance. "Keep the woman; do what you may, but assassin mark these words truly as you will see us again. Do not think we will fade into the shadows for _pirates_ are not something to take likely." The man grinned as a shine in his blue eyes melted the cold gaze. He was observing Connor waiting for the assassin to shoot or to make a last move in any threatening manner.

"If I see you again, I will kill you. Mark those words." Connor warned.

The man chuckled lightly with a nod of the head. All was going according to plan and ahead of the upcoming war. Soon Templar and assassin will meet in the battlefields, soon pirates will raid the ships to join the bloodshed of a crumbling nation, and soon Salty Bones will go mad… It was beautiful.

Freedom is just a word that many will soon know. Freedom is only for a certain few.

"Remember thy name," the man bowed in a mocking manner, "Elliot."

Without warning Elliot stood straight and whistled as loud as the eagles in a fight. Coming from the trees, four more wolves appeared with fur as black as hellhounds. Their size was larger than that of any wolf the assassin has seen. Fangs were sharp like knives as wolves were known to attack humans. The three men turned their backs quickly as the wolves made their way pass them and towards Connor and the woman. Laughs echoed through the forest of the trees as the assassin focused more-so on the wolves and protecting this woman at the same time. Connor had to let the men go and once more mentally cursed for having not killed them when he had the chance.

"I will give you one more warning, assassin! Your people will not be safe for there is more threat then the Templar's!"

However, there were more important issues that he had that were running through the mind of the assassin. The men wanted the woman and Elliot spoke of a captain. Were they pirates or thieves? Slave traders or criminals? What did he mean by a bigger threat than the Templar's? Could pirates be a threat to his people as well? Connor had no way of knowing for the questions of a threat once again against his people would drive him to seek the answers. When he returns to the manor, the mood of the assassin will bear thin.

'_Templar's are my only threat. Who else can challenge these men_?'

* * *

Winter birds flew in the distance.

I sat on the rooftop of the manor, watching as the sun was setting in the horizon. My legs were huddled close to my chest with my arms wrapped around them. My chin resting on my arm lost in my own thoughts of the passing months. I have not heard from my father. I have not heard from my mother. Even the pirates and Templar's were keeping themselves low throughout the winter months. Even the voices have kept themselves quiet.

'_The calm before the storm_.' I thought as the necklace around my neck pressed itself against my skin.

'_How much further am I willing to go_? _Will I see father and mother again_? _The threat is building, ready to collapse under its own weight. The more I see what happens to the people, the less I know. The war drums are still far in the distant, but the fight within the people is strong._'

The sun's orange glow shinned upon the waters and the breeze of the cool wind moved my hair about. The snow made the lands barren and dead. Winter has shown what she could do as certain animals slept for the season while others had this chance to do what instinct told them too.

Times were indeed changing as the dumping of the tea in the Boston harbor was just another stepping stone to the coming of war. Armies, Generals, soldiers, citizens: it only seemed that we were all preparing ourselves. No matter what side we may fight with, we fight for a reason whether it was for freedom from oppression and a belief or to be rid of a threat.

Connor was preparing himself for what he had to do. His choice to not yet kill Johnson was too see what would happen next now that the Templar man did not have his finance to continue his threat towards his people. Somehow, there was _something_ deeper. What it was, I was not sure. Even with this threat against his people, the assassin still lingered into his village to be with those who raised him. His people were _his _family and they saw him no longer a boy but a man trying to protect them like any man would.

Letting my legs stretch on the roof after they were becoming numb, my eyes never left the glimmering waters. Thoughts lingered of what has happened and what-might- happen. No longer wanting to dread on my own thoughts I stood to my feet and began to walk towards the edge. Climbing down the building with ease my feet was now in the snow. The sound of crunching snow with every step I took, I went to the front of the manor and began to make my ways towards the road.

The sound of hooves caught my attention the moment I heard it. Running now towards the road I was almost trampled by a horse. Moving back instantly, the horse made an abrupt stop a few yards from the entrance. Neighing loudly, it was Connor who let the animal go without leading it to the stables. _Something was not right_. There was a body in his arms that was motionless. The body was covered in blood. There was blood and lots of it by the way it stained his clothes and that of the body within his arms. Even the snow covered ground was being turned red. Running towards him, the assassin quickly walked to the door of the manor without saying a word.

As I trailed behind him, I had to find any materials that could be of use. Water and cloth were the primary use. Once I found what I was searching for within a matter of minutes in the kitchen area, I quickened my pace to a large room with the fireplace keeping most of the manor heated in these winter months. Achilles was talking to Connor when I entered into the larger room where on the floor near the fireplace a body of a woman lay: motionless.

Walking closer I noticed she looked familiar. _Wait, she is familiar_.

"Mother?"

Both Achilles and Connor turned their attention towards me as I placed the water and cloth on a nearby table. Truth be told, it was my mother on the floor. Clenching my teeth to hold myself back from yelling, my mother did not look like… my mother. It has been years, I know, but my mother was thin that I could break her if I tried to touch her. Dark circles formed underneath her eyes as she was breathing and sweating from some fever. Her lips quivered when she heard (I hoped) my voice.

"Sel…" But she could not form the words to speak my name. "Salty… Eloy…" _Father_...

"Where," I could not even speak the words that wanted to come out of my mouth. I looked to Connor who was in no better shape. Scratches and blood covered him, though he would fair. I wanted answers and I wanted them now at this second.

"She was being chased by wolves, red coats, and three men who wanted to take her." The assassin said cleaning his own wounds. This did not set well with my thoughts. Inside of me, I could feel something claw trying to get out of its steel cage. This _something _did not feel animal nor did it feel human. It felt like a beast ready to run through without care. _It _wanted me to see red.

_Blood_…

Achilles stood still, looking to my mother than looked away as if he were in deep thought. The anger that dwelled in me was enough to cloud any judgment that I could make. Someone has done this to my own mother. Someone wanted to do her harm. They wanted to do harm to my family. _Could it be pirates_? _Could it be red coats_? _Could it be Templars_? I was not going to let whoever it was get away with doing such an act. They had to be held responsible: red coat or not.

"Do you know where the three men went?" I asked. "What did they look like?"

"I do not know where the men went. One of their leaders, it seems, sent wolves to attack us. They wanted your mother for what reason, I do not know." Connor pressed, walking towards me. He was holding more of the information I seek. His wounds may have still bled through his clothes and the scratches he endured trying to fight off wolves, but I needed the information. I was breaking through. I was giving in to this anger: to this need for revenge.

"Do not think that you will find them, Seliah." Achilles warned. My fingers flinched with irritation as I looked to the older man.

"Look what they did to her! Do you even know what is happening around you other than Connor's people being threatened? Are you all blind to it; because, I will not stand here while they are out there and my father," I was cut off by Achilles slamming his stick on the floor.

"I have had enough of your mouth! What has happened to her is done. She is safe here and when she wakes and is well, she will speak or are you going to wonder off aimlessly trying to find those responsible only to get yourself killed?" Achilles snapped.

I clenched my teeth. I held back my tongue. My hands turned into fists ready to hit anyone that tried to hold me down. Connor was not in the mood himself to deal with anything I had to say. I was acting like a child. Taking a breath in and with a low growl, I gave in to calm. If I was going to figure out what truly happened to my mother, I could not rush. All this tension-all of this heavy weight- had to be pushed aside for my mother had to rest. She needed to recover.

I have felt broken before. I have felt sorrow. I have felt anger. Every emotion that any human would feel when their loved ones were hurt from a danger no one knew. What was there that any could do other than want to find those responsible? It was human reaction. Human emotion that sometimes I wish I could bury deep without having to show.

"You were not there when I found her, Seliah. Having you react the way you have will not make this situation any better." Connor spoke with irritation and annoyance in his voice.

"…and you know what is best?" I snapped. Connor stiffened his stance ready for me to throw a punch or even a kick.

"It is best to take care of your mother like any child should. She is weak, she is wounded, think of her health first before _I _become the one to bring home your lifeless corpse to those who love you if you chose to go on a suicide mission." The assassin retorted.

"If you come close to the idea of going on your own, child, I will be the one to bury you six feet under." Achilles spoke from behind me.

For the first time in years tears threatened to fall from my eyes. I wanted revenge. I wanted to find those responsible. _What good would it do other than cause disaster_? Have I not learned enough in my years here, training under the assassins? Have I forgotten the teaching of my father? It would seem so. My acts were flawed, but no one is near to perfection. Why do such bad acts bring out the worse in (not only me) but in all?

Once again I was acting rash. My anger was driving both men to again snap at me like a disobedient dog. No matter how many times I control my emotions-even if it was small- it crumbles. This was not how I should act. This was not me. I had to constantly remind myself that if I act with anger blinding my vision I will hurt those I protect. I would hurt those I loved.

'_Those who have done this will pay, but mother needs me. She needs to be healed. She needs to rest._'

There was nothing left for me to say to the assassin or to Achilles. Walking pass the assassin who stood in-front of me, I was now at my mother's side. Bending to my knees with a shaky hand in her hands, I had to thank the God's for her safety. I had to thank Connor for choosing to save her when he did. All of the grateful things could wait. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. My thoughts were going wild. What more could I do other than be at my mother's side? If I were to lose my mother I was not sure what I would do. I was not sure what father would do.

"Who has done this to you?" I whispered

"Seliah," My mother spoke.

I had to remain calm. I had to clear my mind. I heard footsteps come up from behind me, but they stopped. I heard Achilles stop Connor from coming any closer than he was. I did not need comfort nor any sympathy. I needed to be with my mother. Whether both men were still in the room or not, I cared not. Maybe I understood more about what it means to protect. Now that I have the proof in-front of me, my mother looked to me with tired eyes and a small smile.

She recognized me. She wanted to open her mouth more to speak but I shushed her like she used to do to me when I was sick or hurt. It was my turn to care for her in a state where she could not help herself.

"Rest now, mother. Rest," I kissed the top of her forehead as the tears hit her warm skin. My grip on her hand loosened, but she kept a hold on me not wanting me to let her go.

For the first time in many years I cried like a child.

* * *

"_Spare me your judgment and spare me your dreams. 'Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams. I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind._"- Mumford and Sons: Thistle and Weeds

* * *

**A/N: **I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter as much as I have. I really have nothing else to say other than wait till the next chapter and y'all readers are amazing. :D

You can favorite, follow; tell your friends, do whatever you like. Leave a review, leave love or hate, it don't matter because this story is only going to get better. So raise your glass to the sound of the beat of a drum and the sound of a guitar as the plot only thickens with mystery of the unknown!

~**End rant**


	21. Revelation Theory

**Bad Blood**

* * *

Above in the winter skies an eagle soared high. It's mighty sound and the beating of its wings in the breeze was a thing of beauty. For so long man has wanted to fly like the birds. Like the stars in the heavens at night, man would always look up to find answers. Man would always wonder what was beyond the lands, beyond the seas, where it was _he _was meant to go. A predator of the sky and a symbol to natives within the land made this bird even more beautiful when it noticed eyes staring up with wonderment. Dark eyes looked away from the predatory bird in the sky to focus on more surreal values.

He pulled softly on the reigns of the horse. He knew that there was no need to continue further where just beyond the forest line of snow was where the waters meet the land. The search has ended with the thought that there was nothing more he could do. The timing was not yet right to face his shame. It was not right to have to place more troubles upon his family with the revelation of his-of _their_- true bloodline. Where it begun in the lands of the desert with a man who was a noble knight of an order long to be forgotten, but hiding in the shadows.

_She _was no longer in the grip of the enemy. The clues were evident in the bodies of the dead soldiers. Lying in their own pool of blood and being feasted upon by starving wolves or crows. Even the beasts feasted upon their own when he stumbled upon carcasses of wolves larger than the ones he has seen. Their fur black as the night struck down by arrows made by… natives of the land. Mere coincidence or was it something else entirely? Was _she _in a safe environment where his allies could watch her? If his mind was sure that it was the reported native dressed in the robes of an assassin, maybe then he would not need to panic.

_They _did not need to know. His past was always a step ahead of him. There was nothing that could bring solitude to his tired soul. Still he had to carry on. There was no looking back. He still had his task to complete if he was to kill his enemy. His secondary mission was not a complete failure (in his eyes) but of something he had no control over. He could not try to change fate even if he could. With his blade marking him more than a dead man, the former pirate could not escape where fate was leading him. He knew that he will die by the hands of his enemy.

It would seem fate has chosen the side for the former pirate. Haytham was a man with much to say and with knowledge that was passed or given to him. The Templar was older than the former pirate by many years, but Salty could say he had a _better _understanding of Haytham. Though they were enemies by their belief, they were enemies by blood.

Pulling the reigns once more to move the horse forwards- where he was to go: Boston. He needed information of Gray eye's whereabouts. Oliver had enough time and with open ears comes drunken mouth's that could spill the deepest of secrets. Surely vagabonds have some idea or even a clue as to what the pirate captain was doing or where he was. _Ghost of Davy Jones _is sailing the seas with _her _flag waving in the breeze of the sea air.

* * *

_He was aboard a ship that held many faces of sneers and growls. Swords, pistols, butcher's knives were held against his throat. He was shaking with both fear and was wet smelling of salt and fish. His heart was throbbing with an ache against his chest, wanting to burst through his ribcage. Eyes were bulging wild with tears at the edge of his eyes. They burned with each blink because of the salt water. He looked wildly around trying to defend himself if needed, but he was just a boy surrounded by men dressed in an odd fashion. Some spoke in his language, others spoke something else entirely._

"_Look at the runt. We caught ourselves a tiny fish in a vast sea." One said._

"_He even smells of the sea. How can such a skinny boy survive our attack while his crewmates drown and become food for the sea?"_

_Bile rose from his throat as he turned his head quickly. From his mouth came the bile but also in the mixture of the substance was sea water. The men that surrounded him took a step back. Some of them laughed with a mocking manner. Pointing their weapons at the boy before them while others felt disgust for they have seen their own vomit, but nothing as shameful as the boy._

_His mouth tasted of bile and salt. Drips of the sea water fell from his body and his already drenched clothes. He did not look back to the men for he feared what they would do. Trembling, he continued to vomit until all that came out was the salt water._

"_Look at him. He has the salt water in his bones." One man mocked._

"_Even the sea wanted to drown him." Another said._

"…_nothing but a stowaway."_

_Observing below the deck he watched as a young boy-a teenager- was being kicked, punched lightly in the arms and cheek, by his crew. The dead eye was exposed staring at this new stowaway that was brought aboard his ship. A scared sea pup that did not fight back was weak in his eyes._

* * *

The winter's night was cold. Sitting by the fireplace I held my father's journal in my grasp. All was quiet with everyone within the manor asleep. I could not sleep for my mother still needed to be looked after. She lay in my bed resting and away-for the time being- from danger that lurks in the shadows. She was found by an assassin in the forest close-but not close enough- from where we stayed. The place I have called '_home_' for the past three years (now turning into four years).

My mother was in a condition I have never seen her in when I first looked to her. She looked weak, pale, skinny, sick. These words were not the words that could describe her. She was supposed to be the matriarch of my family. Keeping all held steady with a fist stronger than my own and the will stronger than my father's.

She was _our _reason. She was my father's reason. She was my reason to keep fighting and to find a purpose when the threat of long's past has risen from the depths of the rough dark seas. A sea snake that has yet to make land or shown its head above the water.

She was safe was all that mattered to me. My mother has not told me much other than the community she lived in was a community of the descendants of Jaguar warriors: her people, _our_ blood. My grandfather was near and I did not even know it, but now I would never have that chance to see him. What made no sense was how legendary warrior people were taking by surprised by pirates: _Unless they had help from Templar's_. Unlikely since pirates- even Gray eye- would not ask for help from _them_. Though, the Jaguar warriors have not been to war or shed blood in generations. One might say they live in peace without having to sacrifice to the sun God.

"It is late in the night. Why have you yet to sleep?"

Taking my eyes off the journal, I turned my body towards the sound of Connor's footsteps.

"Same reason you have not yet slept. I want to find answers to questions that I have." I retorted.

The assassin was at my side with the glow of the fire casting its shadow on his form. I turned my attention to the journal with a heavy sigh. I grew tired of having restless nights, but I was more tired of having my thoughts overcome the need for sleep.

"How is your mother?" He asked trying to start conversation.

"She is sleeping. I thank you for what you have done for her." I said giving the assassin a small smile.

With a nod of acknowledgement Connor sat himself down next to me. Sitting in silence as the fire crackled in the fireplace, I took a side glance noticing that Connor looked more native without his assassin attire. It was strange to see him when I was accustomed to seeing him wear the robes of the brotherhood. Even his hidden blade was not placed on his arm. He was different in my eyes as I may have been the same for him. My hair disheveled, feet bare, clothing that I used to sleep in- no matter how we saw each other, we were _vulnerable_.

"Why was your mother in danger from red coats and the men that I have encountered?"

The small smile that was on my lips faded. A fine line was my only emotion as I had recollection of the conversation with my mother. I was not sure if I could say anymore of what was said. Connor only knew what I told him about pirates and my bloodline. If I told him that my father was indeed Salty Bones-knowing he knew nothing of the infamous pirate- the assassin may see more threats other than Templar's and the English crown.

There was no convincing if I explained. I have better confess knowing the truth was just around the corner. Lying could only go so far. I might just make a noose and cut my tongue after.

"Pirates have found the family of Salty Bones." I said clenching the journal.

"Who is Salty Bones? Why speak of him?" Connor questioned.

Looking to the assassin I continued, "Salty Bones is my father. His enemies are becoming mine. _They _know about my mother and I. Somehow they figured it all out and they will not stop until _we _are killed. Not only are they a threat to me, but the pirate crew of a ship known as _Ghost of Davy Jones _is allied with Templars." I hated myself for speaking of such things to the assassin, knowing that he had his duty to his people. Was it truly best to say this now rather than later?

"When were you going to speak of this?" There was a hint of anger and irritation in Connor's voice.

"The time was not yet needed for me to speak of this. My own father did not want me to fight against pirates, but I am much in the dark as you. Only that I know who it is that wants to see us burn."

"It is of no wonder you know much about the criminals." He murmured.

My finger's twitched at his words.

"Do not speak ill of such things. You are no different than I. Acting with righteousness will only get you far. I only know what I am taught and I use what I am taught in the fields of war. Blood spilled or not, do not sit by my side when you think ill of my traits." I looked to the assassin with fueled anger. His stare did not make me feel so small for if it were not late in the night we would have gathered our gear and went out into the forest to settle our own differences. It would have resulted like the last fight we had.

"We may as well share the same enemy when they are allied. The Templar's threaten my people; the pirates may as well share the same fate as them." My gaze on the assassin hardened. Even if he was a native, he was not stupid. He knew the threat when he saw it.

"There is no evidence of the pirates wanting to take away the land of your people or even threaten them." I spoke calmly.

"Then why align with such an order? Is there something more to what you are telling me or are you going to hide behind the journal you read until your eyes close?"

"To eliminate assassins and those who ally with them to achieve their goal, whatever it may be. What is within my father's journal is from his past. I have said all that _I _know." I sounded as if I were pleading to stop the conversation.

"You sure this is all that you know?" The information was slowly sinking inside of Connor's mind. I was not sure what he was thinking but I could only nod my head. Too much too soon yet if I held back the information than the trust that has built itself would crumble.

We did not speak any further as the tension died down. I looked away from the assassin and to the fire keeping the journal within my hands. I wanted to throw it only to watch the paper's burn. Burn away all that I have learned. Burn away any last thought, but this journal was my father's.

* * *

Training had helped my thoughts process clearly these past weeks. There was much that I had to be focused with. Johnson has yet to make his move as well with the Templar's. I did not like the heavy silence nor did Connor. Each day that passed was like watching a caged animal pace back and forth trying with all its might not to drive itself insane. Within the weeks I confessed that there was more to my father than what I was telling the assassin. He did not take the information as lightly and with Achilles taking note that we focus on the Templar's next move, I stood my ground to both men again.

No longer wearing a hat to cover the top of my head (my hair tied) I used a dark cloak with a hood to keep my disguise as a man or a wanderer for the way I have been dressed. My arsenal has developed some as I still used my dagger (now worn to dull stubble), used my musket with which I have had much practice with the huntress Myriam, and I have acquired a sword- a Dutch Hanger from the year 1670. A beautifully crafted sword with a sharp blade- enough for me to hold and strike fast if needed.

I had to keep getting stronger despite what my body was going through. Taller than most women my age but still shorter than Connor; I could not hold the thoughts that I was to one day shed blood. Blood that I was not yet willing to stain my hands, but as time would pass the threat will grow and I will not have much of a choice.

Keeping my ears open to my surrounds with my back against the tree, the chill air blew my cloak in the direction of where the winds blew. Steady and silent was my opponent as he was moving with a swift pace through the trees. It has been too long since we have trained under these conditions. With our minds preoccupied there was the option of training. It was the only thing that _we _could do. Waiting never came easily. It never did.

_Crack_…

_Snick_…

The assassin is above me falling steadily towards the ground with the hidden blade shinning in the sun. Not as to fall for the same trick as I once had when we first trained together, I quickly sidestepped to the left with my sword grinding against the blade of his weapons. The sound of steel against steel was like a screeching banshee in the sky. His feet crunched deeper into the melting snow as I was being backed against the tree. Using my sword I pushed myself forwards throwing a left hook in a sloppy manner.

Connor moved his head to get out of the way of my punch and using his weight against me, he pushed me into the tree. Grunting with clenched teeth, today's training was serious. Breathing in deeply I jabbed my sword forwards making Connor back away from me. I knew he was trying to corner me by backing me against the tree, but I was not going to be caught like an animal. This training dealt with skill of one's surroundings, the movement of one's feet in the snow, and the pressure that could result in bloodshed if I did not let go of that fear of being branded a murderer.

I moved forwards with my sword pointed downwards as to not harm the assassin. He was my opponent to counter as a real life enemy that I would have encountered in a real fight. He has seen how I have fought my battles. He knows what I could do with my feet. He knows almost all of my tricks, but he knows that I will not go for the kill even when I have that chance.

"You still struggle to move your sword." Connor spoke calmly.

"I do not want to have to draw blood from training." Moving quickly-with my sword still facing the ground- I used my own weight to push Connor, trying to make him unbalanced, and to jab the assassin in the gut with my elbow. He was unaware of my foolish movement, but with his distraction I pointed my sword upwards towards the middle of his chest where (if I was in a true battle and was filled with bloodlust) I would have killed him instantly. I stopped my attack when the tip of my sword touched him.

I smirked with victory for I have beaten the assassin. But that smirked faded from my lips when I noticed a fatal flaw in my supposed victory. We were in an awkward angle with my blade pointed towards his chest I did not notice Connor's hidden blade was just a mere few inches from my neck. I blushed deeply with irritation as I noticed the close proximity of our bodies.

"…a draw?" He countered with a playful mock.

The smirk that left my lips returned when I pushed him aside with my elbow. The assassin only sidestepped just a few inches from me. It has truly been to long since I enjoyed training with the assassin. With much keeping us distant and the arrival of my mother pre-occupying me, the anticipation of a coming storm was keeping our nerves on edge. The revelation of a new enemy siding with Templar's made my worries grow. I knew that it would be a matter of time before my father and I met on the fields of war.

"A draw only means that I am coming close to your level, mentor." I said bowing in respect.

"Do not call me mentor," he said retracting his blade, "there are those who are at a higher level in the teachings of assassins."

"Regardless of your rank in the brotherhood, you will one day have the responsibility of being a mentor." I said truthfully.

"How would you know if I still choose to live the life of an assassin? When the threat of my people no longer stands, I will continue to protect them from many threats. I have a long way to go before the threat has ended. Templar's, pirates, even the English soldier's would end by my blade."

His words startled me when I tried to counter. I was not trying to anger Connor by a mere compliment of his skill as a mentor within the brotherhood. He would make a good mentor to recruits who join the brotherhood. He would be a master assassin, but I feared that he truly will not live this life as an assassin. Was I doing this more-so for myself to keep close to the native or did I want to become an assassin despite what my father wished?

"Even so, you are an assassin. An ancient brotherhood that looks for truth, seeks peace for all of man, they live by a creed that _you _know well. The most important of them all is never compromise the brotherhood." I spoke in a clear tone.

Unexpectedly, the grip on my sword tightened when I felt the throbbing pain in my head return. The sound of a high pitch was ringing through my ears. Louder than the sounds of church bells, even surpassing that of steel against steel, it was screeching.

_Children of Adam and Eve_…

_They took the treasure…_

_Find the treasure…_

_FIND IT!_

I clenched my teeth at this ungodly sound. Turning so as the assassin could not see me in pain the voices stopped the moment I had my back to Connor. Breathing in slowly to expand the air in my lungs I stood straight placing my sword in its loop at my waist. Each time the voices returned they grew stronger telling me to find the treasure. The treasure which I had little to no information on, only that my father knew about it. I have yet to tell anyone of it for they may think I have gone mentally ill. I do not want to be seen as such for it would shame me in many ways. But if I do not say anything at all I fear that it will only get in the way of my tasks.

Up above in the sky a bird flew. It was a bird that I have seen once before and when I saw it I smiled. An eagle with brown feathers and a white head flew above us. Large, beautiful, Connor himself could not even stray away from this creature. The eagle was a distraction from the throbbing pain in my head. Its sound was loud enough to echo through the forest and I had to wonder is mother-nature was preparing herself for the coming spring.

Mother-nature was trying to tell us that we needed to be prepared. Blood will be shed.

Blood will fall…

Blood will not be spared…

_If only I could see into what the future will hold for us_.


	22. The Calming Storm

**Bad Blood**

* * *

News of his failure was nothing but whispers in the wind. Through the lips of Boston's vagabonds, the pirate captain has found him sitting alone with a shot of whiskey untouched on the table. Dramatics were not suited nor was it appropriate. He only wanted to know why someone who sailed the same seas did not do a simple task that was given. He was seeing loyalty diminish among his crew. They were the weak links that could not live the life of pirates.

_Even if they were a dying breed_, He thought with grim line on his aging face.

The music played in a low tune as the night was dying down. The Irishmen knew how to play an instrument. They could play for hours only to gain little money and free ale. Never-the-less, the Irishmen found love in their music. _Wonders of an ancient world full of magic and mystery._ Strange how he did not believe in the worlds of the land, but believed in the worlds of the sea and ancient waters.

Men of many ages were slumped over tables in a drunken sleep. Gamblers ran off with their fortune in hand. Orphans snuck inside to pickpocket whatever good they can steal. The whores were nowhere but in their rooms with a _guest _or alone without pay. It was in this place that he was sitting alone in his usual spot at the table near a window that was covered in dust.

The pirate captain walked towards the man who was in a pathetic state. The smell of whiskey was strong on his breath that it radiated in the smell of sweat and alcohol staining one's own nose as he looked to his own reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes without a day's rest over-thinking his fate. He had a name: _Tomé_. His name was given at a tender age of seventeen when he ventured onto the ship as a simple horse thief in Spain. It has been many years since he remembered his birth name.

"You have failed me as a crewman. You have failed me as a pirate as well, _Tomé_. What reason should you give me for not doing as you are told?" A voice that was cold and rusty questioned. Reaching his arm to take the shot of whiskey, the liquid ran down his throat leaving the pirate captain with a taste he disgusted. Rum was more suited but anything that burned in his throat was enough. The feeling of the burn numbed him to most (if not all) troubles.

He sat in-front of _Tomé _looking rather aged. His skin became darker due to his months out on the seas finding the crew mates that mutinied against him all those years ago.

"Kill me for I have no reason to live in such a world where _pirates_ work under the nose of Templar's. You are nothing more than a savage dog biting the hands that feed it. Salty Bones' daughter was not worth a blade to her neck. She is not even worth the trouble for she knows little about her father's past. She allies with an assassin (one who is of native origin). Mohawk I believe he to be," Tomé sneered pouring another shot of whiskey into the glass.

Gray eyes' eye lid opened revealing the dead eye that gave the pirate captain his name. Tomé looked away from the eye feeling shaken for saying such words. Truth-be told he wanted to die and giving the captain the information would not make his fate any worse. There was no retreating from his failure. Fortunately, Gray eye held in his frustrations. His patience wears thin with his _so-called _pirates not doing what they are told.

"I have heard of the tribe and countless others. Savage people but an assassin of the Mohawk tribe; I would laugh if I did not believe. Elliot has come across the native on his search for the wife of Salty Bones. You know of Ivane," Tomé slowly nodded his head not liking the tone or where the conversation was going; "he failed as you have failed in the task that was given. He was killed by the soldiers who took him captive. The wife was captured by the red coats as a slave only to be saved by an assassin. One could only wonder if a pirate captain is losing his reality of harsh teachings."

_Tomé_ chuckled leaning forward in his seat. Gray eye wondered what it was that the pirate found that was humorous. Then again the stench of drunkenness was lingering in the air around the pirate. Gray eye kept calmed but his dead eye kept its gaze on _Tomé _finding something rather… interesting.

"You live in your own world, _captain_. What you long for is nothing more than revenge and the treasure you seek. The task given by Templar's will wear thin when _they _fail to find what they search for. A wasted journey as it is the same as the time of pirates no longer will exist. You know of this. _We _all know of this. What will you do when all has come? There is a war that will come when the citizens rise. Liberation is only around the corner. Templar's and assassins will choose their side." Tomé slurred his words.

"The task of the Templars is their own. They seek something that they know they could not get. The treasure I seek only Salty Bones knows of its true location or have you forgotten how it felt to call him captain?" Tomé clenched his hands as Gray eye mocked his intelligence. In all his years of sea, Tomé saw Salty Bones as a well _behaved _captain until the massacre in Masyaf. It was madness that separated the crew of _Ghost of Davy Jones_.

"You try to dig into my flesh with your sharp words. You have a lap dog why not let him pick up the scraps? You are in for nothing but disappointment. See the change. See the lives ruined. You are no different from wanting to be liberated and the treasure will not lead you to it. Salty Bones will not give in to your games." Tomé continued to slur as the whiskey was drowning out any form of emotion. His mind was boggled by a mist that anything coming from his mouth would be truth and he did not even care. His life was over the moment he talked with Salty Bone's daughter.

He told her all that he knew. She may have not accepted it but she was smart enough to hold in the information at short notice. If she were to fight against Gray eye, she would lose. Old age did not stop this pirate captain from being deadly. He did have loyal pirates at his aid.

"You know little of what I want to achieve. Liberation and freedom are words that these colonists say when they are pushed to far because of the English. What will happen when they are granted such? Man will be nothing more than man. The Templar's want to control them as I could not care for the treasure I seek is far beyond in the same alignment of the hands of God Himself."

Tomé heard the sounds of footsteps behind him. Those that still remained in the tavern paid no heed to the strangers. Those who were around were too drunk to keep with conversation. Elliot gave Tomé no warning for a sharp blade dug into his flesh. Gray eye was silent, listening to the last breath of the _now _former pirate as he slumped forwards looking as if he were one of the drunks.

Elliot backed away slowly from Tomé's dead body. His blue eyes looked to his captain, waiting to speak. Gray eye closed the lid over the dead eye and took another shot of the whiskey. Month's at sea to kill the last of the traitors was a success. _Ghost of Davy Jones _made port without any recognition, but soon the rumors of a '_ghost ship_' circulated causing fear among the sailors of both English and colonists.

"What is our next move captain?" Elliot said looking away from his captain. The tavern had its low whispers and drunken people were snoring louder than the screech of a siren.

Gray eye looked to his young blue-eyed prodigy. Elliot was waiting for an answer to come from the pirate captain. It was unnerving that any moment one of the drunken locals would notice the dead body. It would cause an alarm if the pirates were not away from **The Golden Vixen** tavern.

"The Templar's have something that I want you to look into. A man, Johnson, will have the funds to continue his advance on native lands. They have yet to give in to a hopeless journey. Follow the trail into the frontier with your most loyal _wolves_. You're new beasts can use the taste of human blood." He stated placing a few coins on the table near Tomé's dead hand. "We will always be stronger than those _damned _Templar's."

Minutes passed by as the two pirates were no longer in the tavern. The night sky was clear with a full moon. Screams were heard echoing in the silent streets of Boston. Neither Gray eye nor Elliot looked backed to the noise as a patrol of passing red coats stormed in the notorious tavern causing havoc to an already broken place.

* * *

**Four Month's Later…**

Davenport Homestead was growing steadily out of the eyes of our enemies. The months were peaceful without much word coming from allies about Templar's, the English, or even the pirates. With this peace I slept without much worry. With addition of Warren and Prudence: husband and wife who were farmers of a different color of skin. I have found them to be lovely people with a generous heart and found that my interaction with my fellow neighbors was one of _normalcy_. These people wanted to live their lives the way that was best suited for them. They wanted to help one another like any good neighbor would in times such as the ones we now live in.

With the growing community it also gave us currency. The money was put to good use through trade ,and we could rebuild broken homes or shops ,and we could also build new buildings which could bring in others who wanted to have what we have-_a normal life_.

I have never seen such a place grow for I was no longer used to living with others around me in such a vast area. It was not New York-a place where I spent my childhood- or Boston-a place where most of Connor's and I's task were mainly located. This community was small but the people here were strong in will. They were strong in their heart not letting the oppression break them.

Even those who were crew members of the _Aquila_ saw Connor as one of their own. I never ventured towards them for my own reasons. I was nothing more than a shadow to the sailors. Just beyond the waters was the sea; my _tempest _calling out for me. Her whispers in the wind beg me to go to the shore. Her whispers cry as to why I have forsaken her knowing that it was in my blood that I sail her like my father did. I feared that one day I would not want to return to the land if I sailed the seas.

Life was taking its steady pace. My mother was adjusting to her new surroundings and to the people around her. Fortunate to not have been defiled by her captors but treated as a slave, my mother mostly kept to herself (only talking to Achilles and me) but as time passed she began to speak out. Trusting in others would not come so easily for her. What she went through in the time of her captivity were scars that were never going to fade.

'_If only I knew._' I thought breathing the salty sea air. The letter that I received scrunched in my grasp. Regret, hurt, anger, it was all emotion that was towards my own father. He always 'says' soon in his letter. If I could learn to master writing I would write back but it was still hopeless for my hands could not do such a thing.

Placing the letter in a pocket, I looked to the scar on my hand. The use my hands are reliable for is fighting and holding a weapon. They have become calloused. I sighed for my hands were no longer soft as a woman's hand should be. _Who would want a woman with hands as rough as his_?

The warmth of the sun was a true blessing from the God's. With the changing of the seasons, curious young animals venture into the lands. I smiled thinking of a young fawn that stumbled in my path as I stood firm not wanting to scare the young fawn any further. Both of our eyes stared for what seemed like hours until the call from its mother drew the fawn from its trance. For a skittish animal it turned and ran into the direction of the call.

"_Ratonhnake ton! Ratonhnake ton_!" I heard a voice break my train of thought.

Turning from the view of the water below, I sprinted towards the door knowing that I have recognized the voice as being _Kanen'to kon_. My mother was surprised to see that I have rushed passed her without apologizing for almost knocking a basket out of her hands. I would have to apologize for my mannerism before I get a sharp lesson from her. Even if I was a young adult, my mother was the one to never anger. My eyes were focused and my mind was intent on knowing what it was that was happening. The native sounded urgent as I began to hear him and Connor talk from a room.

"…he meets with the elders as we speak. I have begged them to resist. But I fear he shall have his way unless you intervene." _Kanen'to kon _spoke.

I arrived a little out of breath. Breathing in deeply with one hand on my racing heart and my hair sticking to my sweating face, to the side of me Achilles was listening intently to the conversation. Connor sounded angry at the information that was being placed upon him. After months of normalcy (maybe even peace) Johnson has finally made his move upon the native people.

"The Templar's are nothing if not resourceful. You should have heeded my warning." The older man stated looking to Connor than to me. "Both of you should have known better than to have my words go unnoticed."

Narrowing my eyes, taking a step forwards, I was about to speak out of term but I decided against it. Now was not the time to argue or even speak of matters that involved the safety of the native people. I did not want to have my mother hold me back against my own sharp tongue. I did not want her to see me in such a shape for I already remind her too much of my father.

Instead I backed down turning away from the older man. Too much would go wrong if I let myself go unguarded. This was not the time. This was not the place. My mother was still inside of the manor just a few inches from the door with her back towards us. The basket still in her hands waiting for us to leave.

She knew…

"A warning would not have made a difference. We stopped them for as long as we could." Connor said. I could not help but agree with the assassin.

Crossed my arms over my chest with my back against the wall my heart slowed to its normal pace. Waiting for the opportune moment to speak for I did not want to cause any argument. The tension between Connor and Achilles would always soar in the air even if one would think peace was there, something or a single word would set one of them to the edge. I had to find the right words- I had to come across with caution to this sensitive conversation. I remembered what has happened the last time I spoke out of term.

"It is a warning that you seem to ignore." Achilles scuffed.

"We would have our answer as to where he has found the funds to continue his threat. If you have any other warnings before we leave than we shall listen. Rest assured that I will dispose of Johnson the moment I have him in my sight." Connor spoke with sincerity. He was determined as ever now that the chance has come. I on the other hand was weary of this task. The assassin has placed me in his words with '_we' _meaning I was on the same level as he. But I could not have pride yet. There was still much to be done before we set out to where Johnson will be.

"We both know that the worse is to come, Achilles. Connor and I have been focused on the task at hand. We worked too hard and now the chance is here." I spoke, pushing myself from the wall. "As Achilles said, 'the Templar's are resourceful'. Johnson could have had the funds from anybody. There are suspects at hand, but as of now we have to be focused on what it is the next step will be." I looked away from the men and turned to my mother with a solemn expression on my face. She was still in the same place, rocking back and forth in a silent sway with the basket in her hands. Her eyes were full of worry. It was as if I was bound to go to war and not come home.

"Please you have to stop him." _Kanen'to kon _said catching Connor's attention once more. He has been silent but observant.

"Of course," Connor said without a moment hesitation, "Can you tell me where they are meeting?"

_Why do I have the feeling that this will not end well_, I thought to myself.

_Nothing ever ends well_.


	23. Dirty Paws

**Bad Blood**

* * *

'_They have made their move. Follow them and you will have your answer to where he is_.'

He bent down to one knee, looking to a set of paw prints that were days old. A pack of wolves seemed to be tracking something. But what startled him was that the tracks were on a man-made road. There was no sign of a hunt or a struggle. Wolves were not well known to travel along the roads used by humans. They were territorial creatures who did not occupy themselves with man. Wolves were always cautious of humans who rarely attacked. He knew wolves hunted in the forest surrounded by trees where they could blend in not where they could be out in the open. It was not in their nature to be out in the open where a fur hunter could easily shoot them.

'_Why would wolves by out in the open_?' He wondered.

Furrowing his brow in concentration, he noticed something else about the road. Upon further inspection on the set of paw prints were also human and horse. A pattern was forming as the wolf paws were followed close by human footprints and horse. Confusion set in his mind as he tried to figure out the story behind the prints. Somebody kept these feral animals as _pets_. However, he did not have the time to think of a true conclusion. It was only speculation as the footprints told a story. It could tell many possibilities.

Standing straight Salty grabbed the reins of his horse. Mounting the animal, he pulled the reins to move the horse forwards. There was only one way to find out the story and it was to continue down the road. Into the frontier he continued as the prints in the dirt would fade in the dirt.

The feeling that was deep within his gut churned as the bile wanted to rise. Recovering was nothing easy for him. Still tired, still broken from the inside, but he was clean shaven. His hair pulled back by a tie looking truly as a Spaniard. His clothes were fitted for the hot days. Underneath his sleeve was none other than the weapon. Acceptance was clear as the hidden blade was cleaned from blood and fixed properly.

'_This blade has proven me an assassin. These veins flow Templar. This blood is pirate._'

With the months passing by he began to realize that he was not the only one whose blood was as thick with poison.

_Seliah…_

* * *

Eyes were sharp as an expert marksman. Keeping low behind a large boulder where no one noticed a lone figure who was feeling the cool air blow in the shade of this warm day. Leaves from the trees made rustling noises while some broke away from the branches to float aimlessly in the wind. Breathing through my nose and out of my mouth, my finger kept steady on the trigger of the musket.

_Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…_

My heart beats against my chest in the tense silence. Birds in the trees chirped, hares scattered in fear, even the raccoon's stayed in the trees as he moved with grace. Steady on feet keeping low as to not be seen, the assassin stalked forwards as I waited with patience. I thought back to how we have got to this point of our mission. _Kanen'to kon_was waiting on the other side due to Connor implicating that he and I would take care of the threat. The assassin's childhood friend depended more on him than he did me.

'_He saw me as an outsider._' I thought shrugging off the uneasiness I was feeling. _Kanen'to kon_did not see me as a 'friend' but sooner rather than later I would prove that I am a worthy fighter.

_Crack_…

My muscles tensed and my body froze. My finger twitched almost causing me to pull the trigger. My ears heard the sound of something moving within my range. It was moving fast by the sound it was making. _Wait_! There was more than one pair that was moving through the forest. I could not risk moving from where I was posted. For one split moment I saw Connor keeping low not knowing that I had heard something behind me moving. I was not sure if he had heard the same noise that I have. If I made a sound than all of this would have been for nothing. He was focused on his intended target, talking in a threatening manner to natives sitting in a semi-circle.

Steady breathing and a beating heart that was racing anticipating what it was that I was hearing. Keeping my finger on the trigger I slowly began to move my head. They were easily within my sight. Their skin was fair and their hair was of a color I never knew could exist. One man had hair the color of fire that was long and tied behind his head. The other two men had lighter hair like that of sand. The one that was leading them had shaggy hair that was unkempt. He was slightly taller than the two behind him. Even-so, _they _were taller than any man that I know. These men were foreigners-not natives, not colonists- but foreigners of a different land.

_Were the legends of tall men true_?

I became fearful when my eyes noticed they had ropes that held two wolves each.

_Four wolves in all_… I thought as a chill went down my spine.

_These wolves are also not of these lands. Who are they_?

Ears twitched as one of the beast raised its head sniffing the air like the hunter it was. It growled as it may have picked out my scent or was it Connor's scent that it caught? My breath caught in my lungs and my eyes wearily kept their gaze on the other beasts. My finger twitched once again as my mind raced with thoughts of what my next move will be if I were to be caught. This mission will be over quickly resulting in failure.

I prayed that the man with the fiery hair not lead the wolf towards me. Surely enough my heart began to beat fast as my blood were coursing through my veins. Luckily the God's favored my fortune and heard my silent prayer. The fiery haired man tugged at the rope causing the animal to yelp and growl at him. Chuckling at the beast they continued to their destination. These men were involved with what was happening down below.

Letting out a steady breath as the men and wolves were now further from me, I went back to my original position. My heart continued to race when I noticed Connor looking from his intended target to that of the tall men with the wolves. _He must have heard them_.

* * *

His wolves have caught the scent of something within the area. His blue eyes looked with caution keeping his sword within range. He was not sure of what it was that made one wolf growl, but he continued down hearing the obnoxious voice of Johnson trying to reason with the natives. Though Johnson was growing impatient with them, the man with blue eyes paused along with his men and the wolves. He wanted to hear the rest of the conversation before he could speak.

_Not that I am rude_, he thought with a light smirk on his lips.

Johnson saw them approach, yet paid the foreigners no mind. Anger mixed with frustration filled his eyes and it showed on the older man's face. The pirates were late as it was costumed for the sea dogs to do whatever it was they _so _pleased. Johnson disliked the allied proposition of having _pirates _help the Templar's. Haytham has made some wise choices for the Templar's, but some of the knights were questioning the grand master's decisions. Not caring for the late pirates and their wolves, Johnson continued trying to get through to the natives.

"Peace! Peace! Have I not always been an advocate? Have I not always sought to protect you from harm?" Johnson practically spat at the natives who sat on the ground, looking to the white man trying to be the one with good intentions. As it turns out Johnson was not a good negotiator. He only failed making the blue-eyed pirate grin like a fox.

"If you wish to protect us, then give us arms. Muskets and horses that we may defend ourselves!" One of the native men said in his own defense.

"War is not the answer!" Johnson replied.

"We remember Stanwix! We remember you moved the borders! Even today your men dig up the land- showing no regard for those who live upon it." The older native stood on two feet, walking closely to Johnson. "Your words are honeyed, but false. We are not here to negotiate. Nor to sell. We are here to tell you and yours to leave these lands."

Johnson looked to the elder native with glassy eyes. No emotion showed on his face but that of frustration that people of a different way of life would not simply bow to their knees and beg for help from white men. The wait to take action could not be any tense. He wanted to beat the natives until their skin was covered with bruises. Their skin color would be replaced by black and blue.

"So be it. I offered you an olive branch, and you knocked it from my hand. Perhaps you'll respond better to the sword." The guards surrounding them began to point their muskets with bayonets at the end towards the natives. If they were not to be reasoned than they will be forced to do so. Johnson would make an example of these natives and maybe show the (_un)_loyal pirates that the Templar's mean business. They were meant to be feared due to stories of the desert people. Knights that had virtue to their name, money that could bring even the king's to beg, and they had lands that could rival any country. The Knights Templar have come a long way to be nothing more than a shadow of what they once stood for long ago during the crusades.

_Damn that Altair_, he thought with disgusts cursing the once great master assassin of longs past.

"Well, this is not the way we treat potential allies." The blue-eyed pirate spoke with an amused tone. His thick accent like that of honey was smooth with a sharp tone. Johnson sneered at the pirate with clenched fists not intimidated by his tall stature nor that of the two men with the wolves.

"Be quiet! You should be grateful that you were asked to join." He stated.

The red haired man chuckled along with the other light haired man. Both speaking in tongues not understood by either the red coats or natives. Not even Johnson could understand their strange amusement as the red haired kept eyeing Johnson with a grin.

"Hn. _Grateful_ if it was not for my wolves tracking you vermin. What I was told was something different. My captain would not be so pleased with the way you treat these _savages_ as if they were property." Blue eyes narrowed to that of the natives. To the natives he looked like an evil spirit with hounds of hell and minions of the same height. "Is it how you see us as well, mere property? As if we are dogs with an appetite to do one's dirty work and make our _dirty_ paws even dirtier." The blue-eyed man raised his arms and made his hands look as if he were clawing. His two minions laughed along with their leader.

"You are no concern of mine, pirate. Laugh at what you want but you are messing with men who do not take kindly to disobedience. Guards, raise your arms. If these savages do not want the help I have given them than they will know that we have _that _power to save them." Johnson spat.

The red coats once again raised their muskets. They marched forwards while the wolves barked like the feral beasts they are. Some of the natives flinched at the beasts whose sharp canines were waiting to taste blood.

"Are you threatening us?" A brave native said rising to his feet.

The blue-eyed pirate looked to Johnson waiting for him to answer.

"Yes," he simply said.

* * *

I held in a breath when I saw Connor climb the building. He knew what was needed to be done. He was close enough to hear what was happening as I only heard little to nothing. He scaled the rooftop keeping in a low position. He was ready to attack but he needed the opportunity to have Johnson within his line of sight. Slowly with each step the Templar took was closer and closer to his demise. Connor was trained well to take each step and calculate his next move.

Johnson had his back to the building not aware of the danger just behind him. The wolves growled with saliva dripping from their canines. They may have caught the scent of the assassin or the beasts were itching to do their masters blood work. I had an eye on the biggest of the wolves that kept its composure. _The alpha_, I thought keeping an eye to the animal. I knew alphas could be deadly even if they behave like a domestic pet.

Connor moved swiftly above the rooftop and made it to the edge. Waiting… Waiting… There! In a matter of seconds the assassin made his descent to an unknowing crowd below. The wolves were released from their ropes, but their alpha set its sights on Connor. The assassin has struck Johnson causing him to lie on his back unable to move from the chaos. The natives sought this as an opportunity to rise to their feet.

Taking in a deep breath I pulled the trigger shooting one of the wolves dead before it could reach its target. A native looked bewildered as to who may have shot the animal, but I did not stay in my place to reload my musket. I had to help even if it meant I will have to discard a weapon I kept dear. Placing my musket on the boulder I rose from my position, ran as quickly as my legs could get me, and entered the fight knocking down one of the red coats. Connor looked to me for a moment when a red coat threatened to shoot if he did not surrender.

In a state of disarray I could not call out to my companion. Using the blunt force of the red coats' musket he was lying unconscious on the ground. A warning shot was fired in my direction barely missing me. The musket ball was lodged in a tree. The ringing sound in my ear faded a few seconds later when I was now bayonet to bayonet with another red coat. Around me Johnson was still on the ground bleeding from his wounds he had endured by the hidden blade, Connor was slashing, striking, and killing red coats, all the while the natives were helping and the wolves were running snapping at legs.

The three foreigners kept their eyes on the scene of battle. Observing with sleek eyes I wished I would have fought them. Giants: they were not threatened by those who could not mask their height. At the moment I could not fight them. The natives could not fight them. Connor eyed them with dark eyes wanting to get back at the blue-eyed one whose grin became wider when he spotted the assassin.

Maneuvering my way around a red coat, I kicked him in the back of his knee causing him to bend. Using-again-the musket I hit the soldier in the jaw. The impact of the force caused the soldier to fall roughly to the ground with blood coming from his mouth as he lost one of his teeth. _Two down_, I thought feeling myself grow exhausted.

Unaware that blue eyes shifted their gaze became set dead on me. His grin did not leaving his face as he whistled for the alpha wolf to move from its position. Startled by the brute force of the animal, the musket that I held dropped to the ground. The large beast looked to me with golden eyes. Without my musket in my hands I had to settle with my sword that was secured on my belt loop. Charging at me with teeth bared I took a step to my left kicking the large animal in the shoulder. It yelped but it did not fall only to turn itself around and charge at me once more. It snapped at my leg coming close to biting me. I swung my sword in its direction slashing the wolf on its snout.

Taking a quick glance I saw Connor instantly kill Johnson with a look of frustration written on his face. The blue-eyed pirate stalked towards Connor seizing his chance to attack and he struck down on the assassin with a sharp knife which was embedded in his shoulder. He yelled in agony elbowing the pirate to cause him to stagger back. It was decided then that we had to escape. We had to run.

There was too much happening around us. The natives fell back in a retreat as I slashed at the wolf again going to Connor's side. "We have to escape!" He yelled in both pain and frustration. I only nodded my head keeping my eyes set on the blade protruding from his shoulder. The blood began to stain his robes. In this chaos I had one thing in mind. We had to get to safety. Our horses were with his native friend.

I held doubt in my mind that we would not be able to reach him. Connor was in pain trying to reach for the blade but placed my hand on his arm. Now was not the time to tend to wounds. We had to keep the weapon in his shoulder. Blood loss was my worry for the assassin. His safety, his life, was in the balance. With this instinct of alert I helped the assassin to his feet. He was heavy as he leaned on me for support and out of breath. _A person in pain_, I thought trying to keep him steady as a wolf growled behind us…

…and we ran as fast and far away as we could from the chaos.

Blue eyes never looked away from us.

_We will meet again. When we do, you will not live to fight another day_.


	24. Intermission from Dirty Paws

**Bad Blood**

* * *

"_The bees had declared war. The sky wasn't big enough for them all. The birds, they got help from below, from dirty paws and the creatures of snow._" Of Monsters and Men- Dirty Paws

* * *

_Children of Adam and Eve…_

Such voices could shake bone inside of flesh.

_They took the treasure…_

Such voices could bring a man to his knees. The throbbing pain could make teeth clench and eyes wishing they could see these imaginary figures that speak in whispers.

_Find it…_

_Wake up!_

_WAKE UP!_

We clashed in a losing fight. Our horses fled lost in the battle. My only weapon within my arsenal- my dagger- was my defense against this brute. My sword was thrown from my grasp lying untouched just yards from me. _The leader of the tall men and the alpha wolf were nowhere in sight. They may have been hiding-watching-as we struggled against these creatures that wore the pelts of the large black wolves. These were no wild men. _This tall man had much strength that I could not stand steady on shaking legs.

Eyes were beginning to grow heavy from exhaustion. Muscles burned with every movement. Sweat was dripping down my brow. My head throbbed in pain for the voices began to speak. Louder and louder in the language I did not understand became worse as my dagger once more clashed against the sword of my enemy. My hood exposed me. It was torn that I had to discard the fabric to the ground. No use now. They now know that I was no mere man.

The stare of the tall man made me feel small (which to the giant I might as well have been). Lips turned to a smirk as he tried to rush at me. His own hair was held steady by a tie showing off his large brows and forehead. His large hand grabbed hold of my hair pulling me close to him. His body was just as strong as I felt this man's muscles move from under the pelt of the wolf and the clothing.

"You fight in a war you know nothing of." He said having his sword on my neck, "the whore who aides the assassin." His eyes following the sweat dripping from my neck to the necklace as eyes grew wide and a chuckle escaped his dirty lips. His grip on me was tight. "_Daughter of Salty Bones the bastard child of a sea dog. This is truly a prize worth skinning._"

Using my dagger I cut him in the arm letting me go. Sneering at him like a feral dog, I spit in his face. My saliva tasted of blood. Not far ahead of me _Kanen'to kon _was not fairing against the tall man with the light sand colored hair. Sword against a simple knife was not cutting through the tall man's skin. Connor even struggled to fight using one arm against said tall man. The assassin was trying to fight with his good arm-that possessed the hidden blade-all the while the blood dripped from his fingertips. Blood was all I could distinguish as it stained his sleeve. The assassin was not going to give up even if it meant dying of blood loss.

This was not a situation that made me fear for the life of Connor and _Kanen'to kon_. I knew these natives were strong and agile fighters with years of training, but these foreigners had the fighting style of a brute. They used their strength to knock down the weak. Their tall frames made them have the advantage. It was an unfair fight to have the natives of average height and me being taller than most colonial women.

Distracted for a moment was not wise. This man with the fiery hair saw this as an opportunity to swing his sword in my direction. Taking a step back using my dagger to block the sword before it could cut straight through the sleeve of my shirt and into my flesh. My fingers were getting cut (they were also sore) causing tiny blisters to form on the palm of my dagger hand. I never realized that I was tightening my grip on my own weapon.

As we continued to fight for what seemed like hours, this man's strength was enough to make me bend to one knee by mere force. He knew I was growing tired when I tried to catch my breath. Even trying to breathe was burning my lungs. He saw this weakness in me when my hair was falling in-front of my face. Grunting in exhaustion, I tried to grab his sword arm only to fail in the process for he stepped back kicking my dagger out of my sore hand that I used to defend myself.

The tall man threw a punch to the side of my face. The force of the blow caused me to fall on my side. Tears were threatening to fall when I could no longer defend myself. Fearing he may have broken my jaw, I spit once more. The taste of my own blood was sickening that I have lost a tooth due to the punch to my face. My vision was blurry from being physically exhausted. Once I was on the ground my opponent kicked me in the side with his strong legs. Even if I was just a woman, he was not going to let me live.

I heard the sound of _Kanen'to kon_ fall with a loud sharp cry as Connor's hidden blade clashed against the other tall man's sword. In the process, both natives just did not have enough strength to carry on fighting. Our opponents were giants with strength to match. Monsters of legend in flesh and bone were before our eyes. The previous fight left the assassin and I exhausted. These men did not even break a sweat. Black magic was on their side. Clenching my teeth with my arms around me to block any other blows my body was in more pain than I could have ever imagined.

He bent to one knee chuckling darkly. His large hand grabbed hold of my necklace tearing it from me. He held it high near his face as if it were nothing more than a prize to gander.

This was it. I was through.

_Snick_… That sound.

"Over there!"

The man was thrown to the ground by a stranger who appeared from the shadows. The necklace that was in his grasp fell in the dirt-forever to be buried and long forgotten. The sound of a hidden blade was near that I thought Connor found his strength to continue. Through blurry tired eyes I could see the figure raise his arm and strike down on the man. My former opponent moved his head away from the deadly weapon.

He was cut in the neck and kicked off the man whom I thought was Connor. I was mistaken. The stranger raised his foot to kick the tall man in the groin. Doubling over (out of breath) the blade found its mark in the foreigner's neck. His blood felt warm on already dirty hands. The foreigner's green eyes stared at dark ones with no fear. His lips turned into a dying grin with his mouth trying to form words to speak.

"Salty Bones returns from the depths of the sea." He spoke in his language of his land.

In an instant, he was dead. I tried to stand on my shaky legs, but all was blurry and spinning around me. I felt as if I were to throw up any remaining food that was inside of my stomach. Instead of standing I stayed in my place. Looking over to the two natives, they have managed to kill the other tall man. I was not sure how they did so, but all that mattered was that the foreigners were dead.

I thought I was going to die. I thought I would have to kill for the first time, I thought.

"We have to leave." That voice.

'_Father_.'

* * *

The sun set in the forest of the frontier. The night brought about the wild in the never ending search for food and shelter. Surviving in a place where the beasts lurk depended on instinct. Some had the will to survive. Some will live on through the centuries in stories. If an animal was weak, wounded, sick, or old they were the easiest to kill. The night also hides creatures of legend. Creatures with red eyes that glow brighter than the sun and wings that when soaring in the sky could cause the sound of thunder to roll in the mountains. Stories that would never leave a child or that of the older beings that fear the night.

The moon on this night was bright. Like a shining object in the heavens it captivated my imagination. The heavens and the God's looked down upon us. It gives us both good and bad fortune. It was high in the clear sky that the forest floor brightened just a bit. Sitting by the crackling fire sat a figure that I knew all too well. His reputation preceded him. Well known in a time where people fear and continue to fear the unknowns of the waters. He has aged with lines near his eyes but he still held something youthful. I was told that I resembled this man if I was a feminized cross-dresser. Growing into a woman I could still see something in his eyes. He saw himself in me but he could also see my mother.

Eyes that were dark in color held caution of the former pirate. It did not go unnoticed nor did the tense air dissipate. Father was looked upon as a threat to the natives. He bears the hidden blade of an assassin. He used it to kill the tall man that attacked me. The same hidden blade that I remember from childhood that was broken in two and now it has been fixed to once more kill.

By my side was Connor's hidden blade. Different from my father's with a more modernized function, the blade lay on top of his clothing that covered his upper body. The weapon and clothes were covered in blood. We were all covered in blood. The stench could attract predators in the night waiting for an easy meal.

The sound of the insects did not ease the feeling of being watched. The nauseating feeling that I had only grew worse with the anxiety. I was still weak from the fight. I had bruises that would heal. This feeling of vomiting my insides did not leave. I did throw up any remaining food in my stomach but I wanted to vomit more. My vision no longer blurry as I was still coated in sweat that dried and flakes of blood peeled from my skin.

Children of Adam and Eve…

Father was lost in his own thoughts with a finger or two twitching in his blade arm. Three years have left us to wonder different paths. Those paths have now led us to the crossroads of a rocky road. Father and daughter no longer had a bond for secrets kept were hidden. I wanted to ask who restored the blade into its true deadly form. Its design was different from that of Connor's blade. Thinking about it from when I was a child, the hidden blade my father possessed was that from the desert assassin.

The horses were in a group tied to trees for the remainder of the night. He was breathing at a normal pace. His wound was cleaned falling to a state of unconsciousness due to the pain he felt; Connor felt at ease for the time being. I was shaking lightly with his blood on my hands as I kept my eyes on the wound on his bare shoulder. Face still flushed from the embarrassment of having to see a man's exposed upper body, _Kanen'to kon_ made sure that his long-time friend was well.

"_Ratonhnake ton's_ wound is cleaned," he said standing on his feet looking from my father who sat by the fire than turned his attention to me. I was not so close to the flame but its warmth was of ease to my bones.

"The blade was buried deep into his flesh. The pirate made sure it was not easy to take it out. The assassin should be grateful that he was not injured to a point he could use his arm." Father stated which did not fair with Kanen'to kon.

My father glared at the native in return Kanen'to kon glared back at the former pirate. Males with pride, males with enough strength; though one was older while the other could handle his own battles against a foe that stood tall like a tree.

"Grateful are wise words used by a man with a history darker than the stories I have heard since childhood." I inwardly twitched. This action made my body shake even more.

"What do natives know of the sea?" Father asked with his voice low and sharp.

I have had enough of this violence from words and actions. Looking to the assassin who still sleeps through all the banter of my father and Kanen'to kon pity arguing, I decided it was best for me to speak.

"Bickering at each other will not solve problems. It will also not help Connor heal or have me rest any faster." I said causing my hands to curl into fists. Though my body ached all I wanted to do was rest. I had to rest. My back was against a tree as my pack was behind me trying to make me comfortable as possible.

This seemed to stop the two men for a while. Like a pup showing it can hunt, the adult used its paw to hit the pup on the head showing it its place within the pack.

"I will not rest knowing that a stranger that I do not trust has come forth from the shadows. I will not leave Ratonhnake ton in the care of a criminal and his daughter who dresses as a man." _Kanen'to kon_ spoke. I crossed my arms over my chest keeping myself from using my tongue to lash out through violent words.

"I am your ally in this fight whether you see it or not. What I do is for the sake of others. Despite my identity, it makes me no less of a warrior." I stated being reminded of when I began training in the guidance of Achilles. Connor was not so pleased when he learned of my pirate heritage and that I was a female. It was bothersome with my physical appearance and the nature of females to fight alongside men.

'There will be no peace.' I though defeated.

"How _Ratonhnake ton_ could handle a mouth such as yours is beyond my reasoning." I lightly smirked at such a comment. Father only shook his head with annoyance.

"Place what little trust you may or may not have for me. It matters that even those who lived before have aid. An Army who use ships, can fight in precision, have men who have history that date far back into a world that is but sand. We have a purpose. My father is also your ally-despite him showing after three years- for without him, we would be dead by the hands of the giants from a foreign land. If we are to defeat the threat we cannot attack each other like filthy dogs."

_Kanen'to kon_ thought for a moment letting my words coarse through. He may not care for my own wellbeing, but he had to appreciate that I was helping. I have never felt so wise. Words such as what I spoke made me realize that being around Connor for as long as I have, some of that wisdom may have found its way in my thoughts. Observing eyes shined through with the fires glow as my father stood from his place near the fire.

"My daughter speaks words that are beyond her. It would not be so wise to travel this forest in the night. If you value your life and that of your friend, than let my daughter and I be of assistance in tending to the wounds of the assassin. We have a common enemy or would you rather threaten any remaining allies you have?" Father said without much hesitation. With the glow of the fire casting its orange shadow upon my father, I could see his stance. He looked tired.

"Having trust takes years to gain. Though you may be an elder in my eyes, pirates are not respected." Father sneered at the poisoned words coming from the natives' mouth. He felt cornered like a wounded animal. Defense was to fight back through clenched teeth, but instead of teeth bearing sharp fangs, the beast of violent words flowed through human lips.

"I am nothing more than a shadow that bares history of men who sailed the seas. What do you know other than my name and my former piracy? Nothing! Be off to your village with what little information you gained. The wolves hunt at night making people of native origin shiver." My father looked to the native with dark eyes. The tension grew bitter.

_Kanen'to kon_ said nothing more for my father sat back near the fire. I sighed when hearing Connor move from his spot. I was not sure if he was waking from a dream or if he was moving to get in a more comfortable position. There was nothing for me to say and he had a duty to apply too. I felt heavy with sleep not knowing that all became quiet. The only sounds were of the animals in the forest and the crackling of the fire. The questions began to form around it. My father wanted nothing to do with the assassins. He did not want the blade. Why would he change his mind? Whatever the case may be my eyes were heavy with sleep. Battered and bruised with these questions that could be answered now.

In the night of the forest even the sounds of the drums started the call to war.

When the sun shines bright is when a new day begins.


	25. Uncertain Task

**Bad Blood**

* * *

It stayed in its place. Whiskers moving with its mouth and ears high in alert. Sitting on it's hind legs to look with caution, the beating of a strong heart made it's tiny breast expand. Just a few yards away was a bush full of sweet berries it loved to eat. A true treasure of a meal. The season was good and it brought food for it to eat. The rains have watered the green and made the trees come alive with the squirrel's jumping from one branch to another. But the berry bush had plenty to feed until next season once all the berries were gone.

Skittish animals that could move with their strong hind legs away from predator's wanting to feast on it did not have to worry for the moment as mother nature gave them fortune. It found comfort in a deer heard grazing on grass or eating away at the last berry on another bush. It scampered towards the bush with dark eyes until it smelled something that caused it to stop. The deer have smelled it as well. The scent of danger. Not from a wolf, bobcat, bear, fox, or mountain lion- that smell was from something far more destructive.

The wind had shifted its course driving away the scent of that danger. Alert had the animals looking from one direction to the other. Nothing within the forest was in sight. Caution caused it to move slowly towards the berry bush unaware that something was in-front of it.

It was caught as the rope pulled tightly against it's neck. It squeaked causing the deer to run off in a frenzy. The animal struggled against the rope around its neck. With each move the rope tightened causing it to breathe heavily with instinct driving to gnaw at it. It was not strong enough to get away as it died from suffocation.

Coming from patch of tall grass I emerged with my dagger in hand. I had waited two hours to catch something in my snare. My body had ached from staying still for a certain amount of time. Two hours of watching bigger game pass me by. If I still had my rifle I would have caught a prize to feed.

A nice big hare would have to do. With only my dagger as my only weapon, I could not think of the loss of the others. I had to properly skin this animal. I had to remove it's insides and check on the other traps that I had made before I go back to the camp.

I found a stream to clean my fresh kill. My mind was riddled with many thoughts. Some I understand better than others. Father answered what I wanted to know, but some of those questions he strayed from quickly. To not speak of the treasure was one thing but to stray from why he carried the hidden blade was disheartening. I knew my father to keep secrets to protect his family.

'_He cannot always be there to protect us. I have been on my own for too long. The knowledge I have now,_' I thought wrapping the meat once I clean it in the small stream.

"Even I do not understand what I believe to know."

Not too far from me was a fox. It had stopped right on it's tracks smelling the death of a hare as I began to skinning process. My hands were covered in its blood. I did not fear foxes only their bites. Their disease was known like that of raccoons and wolves. Connor once told me that foxes were tricksters that grinned constantly. Even though these were tiny hunters, foxes would be conniving enough to trick wolf pack out of its meal. It could even trick a bear-which is the most feared of all predator's.

I could see it's ear twitch and one black paw raised. It wanted my hare and nothing more. Sighing I threw it the scraps of the hare. Once the organs hit the ground just inches from it, the fox quickly grabbed it with its tiny jaws and ran off into another direction. I swear it was laughing at me.

…

He stood on shaky legs. His muscles ached as the nauseating feeling of wanting to vomit was mixing in his stomach. The pain in his head throbbed as blurred dreams flooded his mind. He hurt. His _body_ hurt. The baking of the sun on his skin did no good as the sweat was beating down his brow down to his neck. He looked pathetic and weak. He felt exposed and naked without any cover for his upper body.

...but he was alive.

"Do not move much or you will open those wounds once again." A voice spoke and footsteps were walking close to him.

Looking to where the footsteps were, he saw a figure of a man. This man was _familiar _to his eyes. Just days ago he had helped fight the tall men and kill the one with the fiery red hair with a hidden blade used by assassin's. This man-who was still a stranger- was Seliah's own father. The _in_famous Salty Bones. The former pirate who left his own daughter in Boston to train under the guidance of the brotherhood.

In the short time, both men have gained in little to no conversation. There was no tension between them just observation. Salty could see Haytham in the features of this young man. Strong features but he could also see native. The necklace around his neck could only make the speculation true. _The stories be true_. He thought remembering the story of a native woman wearing a necklace such as the one on the assassin's neck.

_Could this be Haytham's true son? Could this... assassin truly be_.

Connor looked around his surrounding area finding someone missing.

"Where is Seliah?" He spoke keeping his gaze on the older man in-front of him. "Where were you?"

"She went into the forest to search or hunt for food. You have taught her well. Seliah was not so _keen _with her footing as a child." He said throwing Connor his (now) clean clothes. " As for myself, I was getting the blood out of your clothes. I did my best but it will do once you and Seliah return to the manor. Neither I or my daughter can sew. It is best to ask her mother to do so."

Catching the clothing in his hands the assassin inspected them. There was a hole from which the blade went through. "You do not plan on returning?" He said as within his clothing was his hidden blade. The weapon no longer had any blood.

"I do not. As you may already know, pirates and Templar's have been _shaking _hands." What the assassin did not know was that Salty read the letter found on Johnson's body. It was valuable information the former pirate needed.

"I have been aware since my encounter with the one with the eyes of the sky. The coward who injured me from behind. The men that we have fought were more than pirates. They were like giants." As he fixed himself, Connor saved the hidden blade for last.

"They were foreigners from a land that were of a warrior tribe. Men as tall as you or I. They had spoke legends and when I sailed the seas, I only encountered their descendents. Some became pirates of my crew because these men had strength and knowledge of passageways from their ancestors." Salty said having thoughts of his piracy long ago.

They stared at each other. One waiting for the other to back down. Salty was not sure how much this native knew about assassin's. He wore the robes, the hidden blade, the skills, but did he know the creed in which the desert assassin's and those from the foreign lands knew? The creed that has not changed in centuries.

The whisper's of the old man in Masyaf spoke of the creed before he was killed by Salty's hands. It was a given right to know of the ancient creed. Though, times have changed since then and the knowledge of assassin's dwindled by a thread. Salty had knowledge of the brotherhood due to Oliver who knew much more from the books and writings of Campbell.

"You spoke that you once fought against assassin's. How many are there in the brotherhood?"

Salty turned his back to the assassin. With his pack over his shoulder and his horse not far from the camp, Connor could only wonder what it was that ran through the former pirates mind. Through little conversation and interaction as Seliah was not there, both men were still among strangers. Salty possessed a hidden blade, had the knowledge of assassin's, and he has fought against them years before he made his life on land.

Connor still had little knowledge about the former pirate. Seliah was Salty's daughter but even her own father held back from telling her certain things. How far deep into the grave will each have to dig before an answer was found? Then only then could time pass. The Templar's, the English, even now pirates will come together into war. Allies were of importance for one man could not take down an army.

"There are so few in lands. As the pirates dwindle in numbers, Templar's and assassin's balance on a thin line. Rest your body for you need it."

From the shadows of the forest came the whispers of the past. Heavy eyelids closed as the sound of an eagle screeched high above in the sky. It called to him as it once did long ago with another.

* * *

Our journey was only just beginning. Johnson was dead. My father left without seeing my mother back into the forest and into the unknown. I knew he was still on the hunt for Gray eye. Connor had succeeded in ending one threat only to discover that another was lurking. _Monsters _rather then men haunted my mind. Where the Templar's make their plans is where the pirates pick up the scraps.

A man named Pitcairn was made the assassin's next target.

"I thought it might bring clarity. Or install a sense of accomplishment. But all I feel is regret." Connor said with doubt and uncertainty.

"When we come close to finding an answer to this puzzle, there is always a piece of it that eludes us." I said with defeat looking from one painting to the other. These men were the keys- the clues- to something far bigger than what Connor and I could imagine. "They breed like the sickness that lingers in their veins."

I felt Achilles hit me in the side of arm for my brash comment. Letting the pain subside I crossed my arms as the truth was never so simple to take in.

"Hold fast to that. Such sacrifices must never come lightly." Achilles spoke trying to be reassuring to the assassin. Connor however did not seemed to fazed by it. Since our return he has been keeping distance with his conscience being clouded by the letter and the whereabouts of our intended target.

"I had to do it. Not only for my people, but for all others Johnson would have harmed." He confessed.

I uncrossed my arms to place my hand on the assassin's shoulder. He did not flinch or pull me away. It surprised me to see that this was truly affecting him. Why? I was not sure. He just stared at the paintings of the Templar's from their ordered rank.

"Influence is in the mind of the people they control. If we start from the top there is always someone who is stronger. It is as if trying to cut the head from a snake of ancient stories only to have two more grow." I commented.

"It's a start. But to truly be free of Templar influence, all of them must be dealt with in turn. Even your father." All eyes looked to the very top. There the painting of Haytham hanged. A haunting image of Connor's father who he knows nothing about other than being a Templar. Nothing more and nothing less could be said.

Connor had to kill his own father. From the beginning I thought it madness. It was blood against blood. A relationship that truly was not there. Father against his own son. It must be torturous to have to go on knowing that the deed had to be down. It made me wonder how he was to handle such a thing when the time came?

It made me wonder how dangerous Haytham can be.

"I know." Connor said after a moment of silence.

I took a step back with my arms down at my sides. What could I say? I have never killed nor do I hold much resentment towards _my _father. Connor was raised much of his life without a mother. Connor never knew his father.

"You speak the words, but do you believe them?" Achilles said.

"Time will tell," Connor looked to the older man, "but he will not die unless he answers truthfully. What do you think Selaih?"

Their eyes set upon me. I looked to Achilles with a fine line on my lips. Then I looked to Connor who I have fought side by side with.

"What I think is nothing but speculation. My father has said much and the further we go into this world of Templar's, pirates, and even the English, it is best we start making friends faster than we could handle. The threat among your people are your priority and the threat against all will not be mine to bear alone."

Time would not be wasted as our next mission was just outside knocking at the door.


	26. Feather's and Bones

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**Boston- 1775**

Blood lined the side of his mouth. Dried and cracked as it stuck to his skin. Eyes were barley opened due to being swollen. Muscles twitched uncontrollably when he coughed up more blood. The sound of heavy steps walked towards him only to stop. With blurred eyesight, he saw figures around him. Barely hanging on to life the figure in-front of him kicked him lightly.

"Do not die on my accord. You hold something inside of your head." The man spoke in a harsh tone. "Are you allied with the assassin's and Salty Bones? Speak before your tongue is taken from your mouth."

"Why do you hide like a scared fox in his hole?" The man said picking his head up. "Do you fear Salty Bones for what he knows? Do you fear his daughter whom has trained under assassin's? Do you fear both?"

Gray eye kept a stern look to the man. The dead eye exposed to his victim. This was the pirate whom legend speaks of. The one with the dead eye that has given him the name. The dead eye that many believe is not truly dead. Black magic was working for the captain.

Oliver was caught and bind like an animal. One mistake cost him to fall into the hands of pirates. After years of hiding have come to this. Observing from the shadows on the residents and traveler's of Boston. Oliver made a mistake by leaving a trail. Gray eye had his _hounds _sniff him out among all the others. The pirate captain raided his home finding old documents pertaining to the assassin order.

If it was not for Oliver destroying key members of the higher ranks, all would be killed. Though, before he could set fire to the documents Gray eye found an interest in one pertaining to the newer member. His name: Connor... Connor Kenway.

"Fear is a word that is used for intimidation. I do not fear assassin's. Your father was a coward who used Salty to have my crew mutiny against their own captain."

"And yet, you let it happen. You let Salty Bones live (if not for revenge) for the true location of the treasure." Oliver spat blood with the taste of iron in his mouth. He was breathing deeply as his chest painfully expanded to let in the air of damp molded air of the cellar.

"Do not speculate on such things you know nothing of. You my be the bastard son of an assassin but you know little." Gray eye spoke with little emotion. The memories of a once loyal pirate who was nothing more than a boy always sought approval and showed himself worthy of a crew member. It was shattered with angry eyes looking for blood but neither one could kill one another. Instead Salty Bones casts aside his sword to push Gray eye off the ship and into the dark abyss of the sea.

"I know little? Do you pirates understand what is happening in the world around you? Forgive my brashness _captain _but a revolution ..." Gray eye slapped the man to shut him up.

"...A revolution between the patriots and English will arise. Yes, I know these things. The Templar's are not allied with the English much to my bargain. They may use them and their armies for their own needs, but as a pirate I use all for mine. The treasure I seek from Salty Bones lies within his memories. His thoughts. In order for me to get to it I have to break him down little by little."

Oliver breathed heavily feeling the burn from his already weakened skin. Gray eye did not want to approach Salty head on. The pirate captain wanted to weaken him first. He sought after the wife and the daughter for they were only family. A family bond could be broken making Salty seek revenge. It failed, but what was Gray eye planning next?

"The Templar's are nothing more than tools to you. They do not think highly of pirates yet they choose you of all others. I was trained under my father to observe and stalk like assassin's. What I know will always stay with me," he was tired and slowly fading into darkness, "You killed those who have betrayed you. The only one left is Salty Bones. You save him to get to the treasure. What do you plan if you seek it?"

Oliver felt the despair within himself. He was going to die.

"The Templar's seek something more and believe they could control man of his free will. They have fallen from once great knights of longs past. What I seek I will sell. What nation would not want to have the power of God himself to control nations? People? Armies? I care not for the future of man. Human's will always be violent creatures among the animals. You assassin's believe that no one can control man. You want to stop Templar's as you have done for centuries."

The pirate captain looked to Oliver with dark eyes.

"If killing me to keep me silent is your way, than it shall be. I fear not death as my ancestor's before me. You pirates do not know the power that has been locked away for centuries. My father was among your crew for a reason. To keep you from searching for the treasure and something more which you will never know. You will be stopped by a blade of an assassin. The revolution as a war is only the beginning."

The sound of a man's dying breath was never so pleasant. Blade slicing through flesh and the warm liquid of blood falling upon his hands brought no joy of killing. Gray eye saw nothing more than a burden trying to step in his way of reaching his goal.

"Than you have failed the brotherhood. A revolution already started. Oliver!" He shouted.

The door to the cellar opened than closed. Oliver's limp body spilled blood steadily. Elliot payed no attention to the dead man only to the back of his captain.

"Gather the sea dogs and tell them to meet in the **Golden Vixen**. It is time to begin a war on both land and sea."

...

One by one he searched for them. In the taverns drinking themselves drunk on ale. Gambling an unfortunate man into spending his earnings for a simple bet. He went as far into stepping into a whore house where the women lined up looking to the tall man with the sky eyes. He was in not in the mood for _simple _service. The madame of the house tried to calm his rushing feet but the tall man pushed her aside asking where one of his crew's room was.

Giving him a hard glare she pointed to the top of the stairs to a room at the end of the hall. Not giving thanks to the madame, he walked to his destination. Men who came looking for a night of pleasure kept their eyes on the stranger. The woman talked among themselves pointing or staring at him. Some had an eye for the stranger. Blue eyes were not as common and they were desired. Who was this stranger?

He knocked on the door to the room. Sounds of giggles were heard. He knocked again with much force irritated.

"Go away, I am _busy_." The muffled voice said as the female giggled telling him to 'stop that'.

He kicked the door with his strong legs causing it to swing open. It was not a sturdy door for the walls were not thick. The woman screamed in fright as the man on top of her was thrown to the ground... naked. The stench of sex was lingering in the air. A flush of red was on the naked man's face as the woman had smeared makeup making her look foolish.

'_A cheap whore.' _He thought.

The woman gathered the sheets of the bed to cover herself of her shame. Humorous how such a whore could be _shamed_ by her own body she willingly sells. Elliot's cold gaze frightened the woman. People were gathered around the broken door frame like a flock of birds. Letting out a low husk voice to tell the woman to leave she obeyed without lashing out her sharp tongue. With the sheets around her body she jumped from the bed shooing away the crowd. Clearly the people were not familiar with these men.

"Could it have not wait until I was finished? The fun was only beginning." The naked man said with an _unsatisfied _smile on his lips. The excitement gone now left him 'limp'.

"Would you rather me cut off what you prize dearly?" Elliot warned placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"You were never one for excitement. Always loyal to the captain like a dog. Granted you drink with us merry folk, but you keep clear to these tarts. Virgin's on a ship of pirates is but a curse like women on ships." He chuckled but Elliot was not laughing.

"The _captain_ ask for us and like the loyal 'dog' you claim me to be, I would much rather spend my days in training than be with whores." The pirate spoke unamused. "Get yourself dressed and meet us at the _**Golden Vixen**_. Do not be late or your punishment would be decided by our captain. Before I forget, I never claimed to be a virgin."

Elliot laughed seeing the look fall upon his crew mates face.

* * *

Steady breath's of fresh cool morning air filtered through his lungs. The morning rays were just barely touching the surface of the water's with imagery of shinning light. We stood side-by-side looking to the waters below not knowing that we were being watched by protective eyes.

"What answers do you wish to seek when you return to your village?" I turned my attention to the assassin to my right. This feeling that was in the pit of my stomach was as I were saying goodbye to my only friend.

"I do not know. One Templar is dead but Johnson only spoke riddles. With pirates as their aide and your father hiding in shadows to search for a man I know nothing of," he paused, "I know they want the land of my people and other tribes, but I want to understand why? The crown or the Templar's will not take it."

"Words spoken by a true mentor. The pirates care not for the land. Though it is true they are in alliance with our enemies my father and I will not let you handle an army of many on your own. Connor, you have trustworthy fighters. My father may be a stranger but he is a man who will not turn his back on us. His pirate life is in the past." Placing my hand on my arm I turned my attention to the waters once more.

"You insists on calling me mentor. I am no mentor only an assassin with a rank that cannot achieve that of a master." He said with honesty.

"Calling you mentor reminds me of how far we have come. I may not have killed but I do not fear fighting by your side. You have shown me great strength in the face of our enemies. My father has answered some of the questions I presented to him and along the way we will find them."

I turned to the assassin. Standing straight and tall he towered over me by a few inches. This was my friend. My ally and for the most part my mentor whether he sees it himself or not. We have come further than I had expected or anyone else has expected. There were still questions that needed to be answered and Connor has pointed them out.

What did the Templar's plan for the lands of the natives _if _they would have taken them by force or worse? The pirates-from what I understood- wanted my family dead. They wanted my father. Was it for the treasure that they have sought many years ago in Masyaf? Further we dig ourselves into the hole we find something that fits into the missing puzzle.

"Be safe on your journey to your tribe. Even if you do not seek the answers Boston may have our answer. The patriots look to you for loyalty after what you have done. Their intention with assassin's is questionable but we cannot be choosey with what little friends we have."

"I do not believe they know of assassin's and Templar's. They want freedom from the crown as Adams has stated once to me. Freedom cannot be taken from any individual. We want peace but with these threats rising, to fight is to gain it back. To lie on our sides is to surrender."

"Should I consider to call you master assassin or mentor?" I lightly teased.

Connor smirked lightly wanting to laugh at my childish manner. Instead I laughed with a shake of my head. Tough times may have hardened our skin, but each day came something different. Connor was not one to show emotion often. When he did it was as if the light rays of the sun have shined through the clouds covering him. I have-on occasion- embraced the assassin with affection. In his own way Connor was trying to show the same.

The feelings may have been there or they may have been ghosts. We were two opposites with a different path. To let it be was all I could wait for. With a reassuring smile it was time for the assassin to do what he needed to do. With what he was to travel with I placed my hand on his arm before he could turn away. Lightly squeezing him I would-yet again- regret what I was to do.

Breathing in steadily I leaned in closer to him. He was not sure what I was doing but with a small smile I placed my hands on the sides of his hood, pulling it up over his head. _This is him. This is an assassin._ Though I was red and had a fast beating heart, this was not the time. It was not right. Stepping away from the assassin we only stared at one another. I wondered what he was thinking as his chest was rising and falling.

Connor did not like to be touched- this I knew. To say that I like to over step the boundaries was asking for my own death sentence. There was something that sparked my interest in the assassin if it was not attraction. Connor however, it was hard to read him at times.

"I will await for you in Boston. There is someone my father wanted me to meet." I said turning my back to the assassin. No longer holding a smile I had to place emotion aside. Though it hurt to have to hide behind the soldier I was meant to be, emotion would harm me.

_Emotion would also save me_.

"Where would I find you?" He asked.

"Do you not remember I have my ways."

* * *

The winds blew gently. The leaves rustled against the branches as every ancient spirit ran through the forest. Every animal, every being, from longs past to the present could sense this coming danger. Miles from the sea came the monsters rising with the smell of salt and fish cling to their bodies. The war between land and sea is as old as time. Man warned man of the dangers hidden below the surface. The ancient spirits warned man but man never listened.

He was a strong being. He was an intellectual being. He was called man. The ancients created him. Some say they come from the sky while others claim the sea is their mother. Man cannot live in the sea but they can sail her with their creation of ships. Man cannot live in the forest but they can survive with the tools they created from knowledge of those before.

Monsters crave his blood. Monsters who were like him only they come from lands unknown. Lands that once held warriors and lands that are structured. Lands ruled under monarchy. Lands ruled for centuries under armies.

Peace and solidarity could not fill the void that left him _almost _empty. Torn between two different paths even the ancients could not lead him. Up above soaring in the sky was the eagle that once lead them. Once upon a time it lead two souls. They became lost. They were lost trying to find understanding. It was until they found what they searched for. One found love. The other found love in his later life.

He was wise for such an age. Still a young man who has already killed. He believes to be doing all for the sake of his own people. It buried, scarring deep into his bones until they were carved. In the distance was a place he has called home with the people inside he loved. Time has darkened his mind with doubt. One step forwards would leave him two steps back to where he began.

He needed guidance from _them _when the passing days brought nothing more than searching. Searching for answers on why he doubted. One threat would end by the tip of his blade. Like a snake with many heads, cut one off and another grows in its place. In order to kill the beast you had to start from the leader and burn it so no other would grow.

Connor was still learning about the true existence of assassin's. Those who know about assassin's or where once part of the brotherhood would not speak openly. Connor only knew of two men: Achilles and Salty Bones.

Off in the far distance where the armies will meet in a bloodshed. A new mission was to arise in the fight. Men readied themselves with loaded muskets. The red coats were on the march. The assassin had to rush with his meet with his people than ride to Boston where Seliah will wait for him.

'_Blood will be spilled. Warnings will be made. The Templar's and pirates will have an army at their disposal.'_


	27. Revolution of the Sea Dogs Begins

**Bad Blood**

* * *

**Boston-1775**

I arrived at the blacksmith shop with one of the orphans by my side. He knew-more than I- about every building in certain districts of Boston. He knew the names, the location, and he even knew names. Conducting my own investigations using the orphans as ears as to what has happened within Boston since the dumping of the tea. Their words have been haunting when they spoke of a ship far within the docks unmoving. The citizens and mariners believe it to be a pirate ship that has been abandoned. But when English ships sail close it passes it as if the supposed pirate ship were a ghost.

With the arrival of the ship also came figures who most-if not all- would stray away from. The orphan described these men in detail and once we arrived to the destination; he would not go any further.

"The man you want to see has not been in his shop in many days. In the night _they _came for him. Dragging the blacksmith as he was covered in blood. Whoever you are, _they _may be on the search for you and the _savage _you travel with." He warned looking to the shop with cautious eyes.

"Who I am will stop men that threaten _our _way of life. If you see the native I travel with tell him to meet me in the inn I stay. Keep open ears as well to the men we seek. His name be Paul Revere."I placed my hand in my coin pouch. Taking out two coins that would feed him and the other orphans, I walked towards the frail boy.

"Be cautious of these men, orphan from New York they call _Tom Boy_. The English prepare to attack. Try not to die if this war takes off. Tell the _savage _to keep open eyes. As you two are wanted criminals, his head is most prized by not only the soldiers but of men not like the strangers who took the blacksmith." Taking the coin from my hands the orphan bowed lightly before running off.

I stood in my spot watching as the orphan disappeared into an alleyway. These children were observant more-so than the older adults. They hear, they watch, than I remembered I was one of them. Or I used to be one of them. Shaking the thoughts from my mind I headed straight for the shop. Once inside it was quiet with the smell of ash from the fire-pit and the smell of iron or was it steel? Rust? What the smell was I did not know. I was not familiar with the works of blacksmith's other than buying or repairing my weapons.

There was a litter of debris that was left undisturbed. There were bloodstains on the floor and on the wall. This Oliver did not go without a fight. Walking through the building finding more blood, overturned tables and weapons finished or not thrown, I came to a stop finding books that were burned to a crisp and documents as old as an ancient scroll.

Whoever took Oliver wanted to burn whatever was in these documents and books. Whoever this Oliver was had such ancient writings within his simple blacksmith shop. Or was I not seeing something more. The ship that as not moved and along came men. Could it be that the pirates are here within Boston? Could they have taken Oliver because he knew something?

Finding the answers to this mystery I began to search in the books that were not burned or were decent. Even the documents I found had writings I could not understand. I do not know how long I have been searching but I found something that caught my eyes. This was no ordinary blacksmith. This was Campbell's son. The very man who my father has spoken of in his journal. The assassin.

Oliver was the son of an assassin living his life as a blacksmith. It was making sense in my mind that Oliver was taken because he was Campbell's son. There were two suspects within this taking: Templar's or pirates. The question was 'why'? What did Oliver and Campbell know?

'_Was it of the treasure_?' I thought looking at a document that was burned leaving parts of it untouched.

'_Ark_' it said.

_Children of Adam and Eve_...

_They took the treasure_...

The screeching sound echoed in my ears causing me to place my hands over them. My eyes closed shut in pain as it only gotten worse. Flashes in a dark void of my mind showed faint images. A man. A bald man who showed no emotion. He was facing me? No, he was facing another whom wore the robes. Their clothing... It faded back into the dark void as he spoke in a tongue I knew not.

_The Ark..._

_They took the Ark..._

_Find it... Before it is taken again..._

...

I burned the rest of the documents and any books pertaining to assassin's. Burning the past, burning the present; still, there was something that I could not help but know. This _Ark; _I have heard such a word somewhere. The pirates of _Ghost of Davy Jones _sought a treasure from Masyaf. Father was the only one to know of it's location as well as Campbell. Oliver-his son- may have connections. Piece by falling piece it was making sense. But what does it all mean?

'_Who was the bald man_?'

With my thoughts running in circles as I was walking in the streets to the inn, I was not expecting to see a familiar figure walking towards me. Those around me seemed to slow down not taking notice of my strange behavior. Blurred images of the bald man walking behind the hooded figure with a grimace look placed upon him. The hooded figure faded as did the bald man when I saw Connor stop before me. He did not look so pleased. Rather he looked restless as I have come to known the assassin.

"I was not expecting you to make a hasty journey. It has been but a week." I said.

"Have you no word from your _sources _of where Paul Revere may be?" He spoke wanting to continue on with our task.

"The orphans found you or you found them rather quickly. I have not received word, _yet_. Remember, these are but orphans. If they are caught we have nothing." I said. This did not please Connor as he looked to the sky. In any case I continued on, "I have found that the man I was to seek was not within his shop. He will not be in his shop for sometime. I did however purchase a rather useful sword and throwing knives." I smiled like a conniving fox trying to get a rise from the assassin.

Connor looked to me as if he did not believe me. Through tough skin and a stubborn nature, he did not have to speak words other than shake his head with disappointment. Tense air disappeared when I saw the assassin sneak in a smile.

* * *

In the calm before the storm, a ship sailed the seas. Known to be a ghost ship to mariners _Ghost of Davy Jones _was very much a phantom. _She _carries her flag with much pride as _Her _captain was filled with pride to have such a ship. Battles my have left the ship scarred only to be fixed, but a war was within reach. The crew were readying _Her _for the war. They made sure the ship was filled with the best of cannons that could be of great destruction.

The boatswain walked above and below the deck making sure all was right. He would bother the carpenter of any leaks or failing pieces of the ship that would cause _Her _to sink or (in battle) break. Each pirate aboard the ship had their specific duties which Gray eye made sure he could trust them to do. He had to make sure his crew could take care of his ship for if one slip or one failure, Gray eye would not hesitate to throw them overboard to be food for the sharks.

Those responsible for the ship made sure _she _was capable for battle. Aboard the ship for the first time, dark eyes were _impressed _to see men (considered dogs) doing what they were told to do be higher ranks. From the lowest swab to even the quarter master had someone who was above or below them to give them order's.

"Pirates are not as savage as people make us to be," Gray eye said looking at the deck of working pirates.

Elliot stood calm watching. He was to make sure that all were doing what was asked of the crew. The gathering at the tavern called upon all the pirates to make haste to the ship. It has been too long since they could feel the sea winds blow through them.

"Even if you believe such words, I do not want to be on a ship of pirates." A man with an English accent said to the right of Gray eye.

"Haytham, you are on my ship. It is disrespectful to speak to the captain in such a manner." Gray eye warned steadily as the crew near the two men listened with open ears.

Elliot took notice of these eavesdroppers. His glare hardened and his eyes became a darker shade of blue. They were to do their jobs of washing the deck but instead they wanted in on what men of higher authority had to say. Elliot walked away from the men to give discipline to the the crew member's caught. Gray eye ignored them as well as Haytham who saw the quarter master kick a boy in the side. Yelling at him in a language he did not understand.

"You simply invited me or should I recall rather forced me? What is it that you want to speak to me about?" Haytham asked scratching at the back of his neck.

"The simple calm before the storm. All on the land and sea know a war is coming. Commanding armies of well disciplined men of the colonies and farmers or red coat deserters wanting to break away. The English prepare as well as the Patriots to kill one another for a reason: freedom and independence was it? Templar, pirate, and _three_ living assassin's are caught in the middle of civilian squabble."

The Templar knight listened intently to Gray eye. Those who wanted freedom were against the crown. It was simple that even the pirates figured it out.

"Salty Bones made his decision to fight. The other two I have not had the pleasure to encounter at the moment." The last moments of seeing the former pirate was in a weakened state. Haytham should have ended his life but he did not do such a thing. "Assassin's have always fought against Templar's. I wonder what reason the two will fight for."

It was a thought process that made the Templar wonder. It was many things-unlike Salty's reasoning to kill Gray eye. Haytham will not speak openly about such if he wanted to keep the pirates as allies. They will be useful in the sea battles. This ship and their captain are experienced.

"Salty Bones has always been an assassin no matter what you believe in. It is only fair that their bastard children follow in their footsteps." Gray eye smirked remembering the description of the native assassin. _If only Haytham knew that his own child became an assassin rather than a Templar._ The pirate captain would not say such but the surprise look that would come upon the Templar's face would be worth the surprise.

"English ships will bring many men to fight for order in the colonies. I have no time to ponder in the open ocean with pirates and talk of what I know. My own men blend not fighting for either side. We are still looking for a key that could bring in _that _order misguided citizens need." Though the Templar's sided with no one side, they had a belief that the English would win. Their armies were disciplined. They took command easily. The patriots were not true soldiers.

'_Their commander... nothing more than a weak-minded man_.'

"Haytham, you speak wise words to yourself. I know you are a busy man but your true purpose here on my ship among my crew is that we have found Campbell's son, interrogated him, and I killed him. His body is below the decks were we will give the boy a pirate's burial."

"What did he know?"

Gray eye looked to the sky. Hands behind his back listening to the busy crew. Shouts were being heard up and below the deck.

"He was the librarian. He kept records of past assassin's and their kin to the present. He burned most of the records when we found him. Even if your own values are greater than mine-Templar- know that we both are to fight in this war. Whom should win is decided when we find the assassin's and they know the truth as to their future and our own. Sins of the father."

* * *

Night fell in Boston as Connor and I had word from a orphan. Following the directions set out for us we made found ourselves in a deserted part of Boston. Light shown through the windows as we both walked towards the door. The assassin had a change of mood as if he were being toyed with. He wanted answers and he would do just about anything to get to it. It was understandable not having full clear answers but as he walked in-front of me he roughly pushed the door open causing me to mentally curse.

"A simple knock would have been useful." I said walking inside to find three men, one of which was Paul Revere.

Paul walked towards Connor and I with much of a smile placed upon his face. I could feel the staring of curiosity from the two men sitting in their seats. Watching the scene before them amused wanting to chuckle to themselves as Connor was serious of the matter.

_The instinct of an assassin has now settled in his veins._ I thought.

"Ah, Connor and friend. What a relief! You came!" He was a bit too happy for our comfort. Connor was not as amused as I was when Paul placed his hand on the assassin's shoulder. "Allow me to... to introduce you to William Dawes and Robert Newman." Connor nudged away Paul's hand not wanting to be touched.

Both men nodded their heads in acknowledgment. I nodded my head as Connor took a step wanting to get straight to the point. We were here for a reason, not a friendly gathering.

"Your letter said John Pitcaim was here." Connor spoke getting straight to the point.

Paul looked to me for a moment which I only shrugged my shoulders. Connor was not my sole responsibility to care for. The assassin acted on his own only to have me around in case I had something to say or to observe.

"Aye. He's readying an assault on Lexington, where Adams and Hancock have taken shelter. After that he will march on Concord- hoping to destroy our weapons and supplies. You must help us!" Paul said walking towards the open door than shutting not wanting any open ears to hear.

"Only tell me where to find him and I will put a stop to this." Once again he was determined.

"He has dozens, if not hundreds , of soldiers at his command. You cannot hope to match him by yourself. Even if you do have your friend at your side." Paul said looking-gesturing to me-than back to Connor.

"I do not believe Connor is... _wise _to go after a man with an army." I said. Connor said nothing only to glare at me. These words, I have said before. Though it may not have been the exact sentence or wording, but the assassin knew he could go against an army on his own. It is suicide. It is insane. "Those we will fight against will have _outside _sources by their sides. Swords stronger, skin tougher, muskets aimed in a straight line, I have seen them fight. Even we cannot match them."

"Fear not- for you will not have to! We have an entire army of our own- merely awaiting the order to take up arms." This still brought no relief to the tense air. Paul may have acted enthusiastic but I feared that these _Patriots _will bite off more than what they can chew. It also brought about a question: who was to command this army?

Connor kept a steady glare as he looked to Paul, "then you must call upon them."

"Indeed, you and I will cross the Charles river and rouse the boys." Paul turned to the man still sitting in the chair not saying a word. "William, I need you to take the overland route and do the same. Robert, I need you up in Christ Church. Light the signal. Two lanterns- our enemy comes by sea!"

"What am I to do? Two go by land while one by sea. It is a disadvantages for the sea is larger and ships hide their flags. I have much of an eye around the harbors from experience of my own kin." I said.

Paul looked to Robert, "Would you mind if you had an extra eye?"

Robert looked to me with caution. I stood as tall as I could with no sign of emotion. With my hood over my head to keep any sign's of me being a female, I had a distinct look as if I-myself- were an assassin.

"As long as _he _keeps his eye focused." Robert commented. "If what you say is true than you shall be our lookout for the seas."

"Than I shall keep my eyes like that of a hawks. Monster's do not only cross with swords made of the steel of the land, but sea serpents have fangs that can drain a man to drown in the sea." I said walking by Robert's side, "Let us start a revolution."

In the back of my mind, the thoughts of what I have found were slowly coming together. The librarian is dead. He burned away what he did not want others to know. Except for my father. This Ark could be what Gray eye is after. Father wanted to keep its location hidden. All the while Templar's want to take native lands and have support from the English crown. Do the Templar's and pirates care for the independence and freedom of the colonies or was there something more?

* * *

**AN: **I have not done an author's note for sometime. (Bad author bad). So many things have been happening in my life which do not pertain to this story. I apologize for it. Truly I do. Thank you to those who have been reading and adding to their favorites. Followers are welcome too. Reviewers are optional for those who have something say or is not sure what I am trying to point out in the story. If you are confused or just want to ask me a question, feel free to ask.

Next chapter: The war we have all been waiting for! Secrets will be uncovered. Romance would be revealed...maybe... Blood would be shed. Lots of blood. Will all the missing and confusing pieces come together or will it fall apart? Find out.

I love my reader's and because of that I will give out free internet hugs!


	28. Dirty Paws and Furry Coat

**Bad Blood**

* * *

He walked alone in the barren street. Not a single flicker of candlelight shown through the windows of this small community. Above in a church were the only source of life: two lit candles. He did not know what it meant but when he heard the sounds of footsteps coming he fled into the shadows. Watching and waiting as a battalion of red coats marched in fine unison. Their leader shouted order's to continue on through the night. People who were in their homes quickly closed their blinds as to not see.

The day has finally come for war marched in a steady beat. Loud as a coming storm in the summer season or like a cyclone in the sea's, these red devils come marching in formation. Unified like commanding obedient soldier's that they were known to be. Red coats showed no fear- only to restore order in a chaotic new world.

Freedom was not to be taken likely. The colonist grew tired of having to be placed under rule of a crown. They wanted something more only to be told by men who were not of the crown. What was the word? Democracy? He did not know for this war would change the future and the way people sought out their freedom of choice. If only it were true however.

Salty knew the cost of freedom. This was more than a war about freedom. For the Templar's and assassin's, it was about the rule of free will. No man, woman, or child could have that taken from them. However, both sides saw it differently. Where Salty stood on the matter was much more. The ark was the power of God Himself. The power to control all taking away their free will. To live by peace but if placed in the wrong hands could it be used for destruction.

_Man is but a violent creature no matter how one sees himself_.

"A little bird spoke about the marching of the red coats." His skin went cold when he heard the raspy voice. "The patriots have also gathered their armies. Untrained men unlike the English, but I have wondered who will lead them? The patriots are untrained men with little-if not-no experience of war."

He clenched his teeth as he turned around to the figure in the shadows. Eyes so dark and covered by the night that in the darkness the man seemed to have come from the depths of hell itself. In the background the battalion continued to march on unaware of the two men; not paying them any heed. Salty kept himself still as did the other man.

Slowly the man came from the shadows. Age has changed him, but the man was still as dangerous as any sea snake. Wise, corrupt, venomous. Gray eye could be immortal and no one would have any gesture to it.

"It has been years has it not, Salty Bones?" He spoke in a calm manner feeling the night winds blow through his coat. The feeling was soft against the older man's skin.

"So it has truly been, Gray eye." Salty said with clenched teeth ready to attack.

"Do not make any stupid movements. Finding you has been nothing but coincidence on my behalf. The chase has ended." Gray eye walked forwards in a steady pace. Salty flinched his hand wanted to release the hidden blade, but he waited. He wanted to see where this conversation was to lead.

"You have played with the lives of my family. Almost succeeding but they are stronger despite being women. You know you cannot kill me... _yet_. I know you want the true location of the Ark. Playing chase, killing those who betrayed you. I would rather die than confess to you." Gray eye kept a stern look at his former quarter master. Age has changed Salty, but he still held the qualities that he once had as a younger man.

"I see that you have not lost that tongue of yours. That is but a true pirate within you." Gray eye lifted the eyelid of his dead eye. Salty did not look to the dead eye for he knew that staring at it would cause him to relive the memories of good and bad.

"I am no pirate," his voice was strong, "I no longer live that life."

A grin found it's place on Gray eye's aging lips. "Yet you still fear looking in my dead eye. You were once a pirate no matter how you hide behind the assassin blade. Killing Campbell did not bring any peace nor did killing his son." Salty clenched his fist. Gray eye killed both men. He killed those who betrayed him. "_You_ have options Salty Bones. Not many pirates live after such a mutiny. We can make amends if you lead me to the Ark. Fight this war with your assassin brother's and I will kill your daughter."

"Amends mean nothing to me even if you continue to threaten my family. They have nothing to do with this. My daughter is trained and skilled even if she is no man." Gray eye grunted with a shrug of his shoulders.

Salty could believe what he wanted to believe. What they are told and why they fight is another matter. Men who will spill blood will spill for their own reasons. Gray eye had no reason to fight in the war nor did Salty Bones. The war could end before it began and it would not affect the two men. Though, the casualty would be the daughter is she dies all for a senseless will of freedom.

One wanted to sell a power greater than any living being.

One wanted to keep the secret of his bloodline and that power.

"She dresses as a man. Salty Bones, I am giving you a chance. The Ark is within reach. This war has begun. The distraction that is needed and the Templar's are within their own world focused on the assassin and your daughter."

Salty closed his mouth shut. Though, he clenched his teeth his finger twitched releasing the hidden blade. Gray eye had the proof he needed. Salty Bones was true to his assassin brother's.

"We both are at a stand still as it has been since you could not kill me all those years ago. You are the map to where the Ark lies."

"I will not give you the location. I know you want to sell the Ark to other nations. With it's power it could control. I was a foolish young man to think I could do such, but as you may have known that I did not want it. Campbell was right about what lies in it's power. Those before him know. If you want to shatter that than I will end you here and now!" Salty stepped forwards with the hidden blade within the shadows.

"Than you leave me without choice. I know the Templar's want me dead."

_He want's to take it_!

_Do not let him take it_!

* * *

The fog lifted to disappear into nothingness. My task was to leave my post. Red coats have made land and to my astonishment a battalion has been formed. They marched in unison like ants in a colony. The memories of my childhood flooded back. Seeing familiar formations, cadence, the bright color of the uniforms, it was but a wonder why I chose to lead a life to find an answer. Coming this far had always been a struggle. What I have seen, what I have knowledge of, and the emotions that I was beginning to feel kept me struggling to understand.

...and yet, I had a task that was needed to be taken of first before I go mad with this ill fate.

Leading this army was a man I have seen in the paintings. _Pitcaim_. Robert has asked me to keep low and follow them. Complying I nodded my head and from there I kept in the shadows far away but close enough to keep them within sight. A few times I would have been spotted and immediately killed. A few times I could have slipped leaving me to dwell on my failure. Somehow, I could no longer catch the army. They were marching in an open field where I could have been exposed.

With the frustration growing within my heart, I let them go.

Hours seemed to have passed when I could no longer hear the army march. Though I kept weary of my surroundings, I heard the sounds of the forest creatures stirring-scattering-from my scent. Alone to walk and keep my eyes and ears open to my surroundings the sounds of war have echoed. Muskets were fired and the shouting of men caused me to pause on the trail I was in. My heart was beating roughly against my chest as my hand went for my sword.

Cautiously I had to keep from being spotted. The thundering roar of war seemed to be miles away as I now began to run. Blurred lines of the trees, the scattering of hares within my path , and a small creek with water clean from any waste were not to be in my way. War has been declared when I spotted blood and the smell of gunpowder in the air.

The world could have stopped the moment I saw bodies lying on the ground with their eyes staring up at the skies as if their God would save their souls. Both red coat and patriots lay dead. Faces I did not know were scarred or covered with blood. I searched for a body that I did not find.

He was too skilled, too weary, too cautious to die. My doubt and worry kept me running through this war tattered community. The stench of blood was vile making my nostrils burn. The smoke from musket fire lingered as well. Death was everywhere and in time the scavenger's would come for the feast of the dead. Crows have already landed on some of the unlucky souls. The sound of their call awakened _Mictlantecuhtli_- God of the dead.

I wanted to throw up at the thought of one of my God's claiming these victims who had a religion I did not understand. One God? One merciful God would not allow this to happen. Clinging to thoughts urged me to continue. Bodies continued to be scattered as if they were leading me to a much bigger battle. I felt as if I was running through the lowest form of the underworld. I kept my sword within my hand in a tight grip. Muscles were burning with the stench growing stronger.

"The dead will remain dead. Sometimes I wish to have died along their side. It is of the highest of honor's to die in battle."

I turned to the sound of the foreign voice. With my sword still within my hands I kept still. Defensive- but still. From the forest came the pirate with the blue eyes who stabbed Connor and his demon beast much larger than any wolf. He was alone as if he were following me, but I kept my eyes firm in case he was truly not alone. From past experience I knew pirates never ventured alone without more.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked cautiously but with haste.

The pirate looked away from the dead bodies as his wolf sniffed the air. It's ears pointing back and its golden eyes dilated.

"I did not know you would be within this area. Though I should not be surprised seeing as the savage finds himself in such predicaments. I could expect the same from the seed of a pirate. It is also that the blood of the dead could attract any animal- including my wolf." He raised his hands so that his palms were facing me seeing the distrust in my hard glare. His weapons were secured on him but I was not so trustworthy of pirates.

"Intent to kill you will solve nothing. The problem's will stay the same as it has since man learned to kill his own brother." He made a gesture to the dead soldier's to prove his point.

"Than speak of your purpose. If you do not intent on killing me than why stand in my presence." The pirate gave me a sly smile as if amused by my _supposed_ authority. Women may have tongues that were like venom, but to tell a man what he is to do is mockery.

"Civility between you the assassin buries deep. Tell me, is it between the sheets that civility calms that tongue?" I blushed to hearing such words. The pirate chuckled at my own embarrassment. "There is a simple way to bring in alliance between you and the captain. Though he would rather see you hang for being an assassin's whore, I would suggest we come to terms through marriage." He stated causing my mouth to dry.

He walked closer to me. Quickly his hand cupped my jaw bringing me closer to him. His blue eyes looked me up and down. My breathing was low and steady despite the blush creeping to my cheeks. This pirate was also breathing calmly as his other hand was placed on my wrist to keep me from slashing my sword in his direction. His hot breath was hitting me making me shudder with a bit of disgust. Demeaning, gross, yet I had to keep still.

The wolf lowered itself to the ground. Growling with raised fur. It knew that I was intimidated.

"Marriage would do nothing. Alliance will not stand tall and I will not turn my back on those whom I fight for." I spat looking up to the pirate. The grip he had on me tightened.

"It could do many wonder's you arrogant woman. My family bloodline has brought about alliances for generations. From wars to peace in my lands. If you were a man I would have killed you leaving Salty Bones without an heir and the brotherhood without its assassin. Being a female is a curse yet a blessing for not my benefit but your families."

This pirate may want to form an alliance. Between pirates and assassin's it may seem. To get to the treasure. Who was this man? He was allied with Templar's. My mind was blurred.

"Surely you are not here to propose an engagement. There is something more." I finally spoke.

"It is simple, your father wants Gray eye dead. My captain wants all family and allies of your father dead. You may also know that in such a case it cannot not happen... yet. You may know the reason; you may not. The Templar's are impatient with _our _kind. Chaos is all around us without proper order. If you choose not marriage than you and I will fight one another in time. I have been waiting to die in battle as my ancestor's have done many generations ago."

I furrowed my brows.

"You speak words of madness." I stated keeping my eyes on his.

"You would say such as you are no different than an assassin. You will die for your belief and not to die with honor. I know you believe you will be free of this tyranny. Tell me, what is the _freedom_ you seek? Does the savage himself understand it? Freewill means nothing because man was meant to be like sheep. They need a Shepard to lead them and keep them in the flock." He roughly pushed me back.

My jaw felt numb from the pain. Teeth clenched as I looked to the tall pirate as his wolf kept steady. No longer growling at me with its predatory instinct to kill me. I had to realize that my enemy was not evil or bad, they had different ideals. In war one had to respect their fellow man. In war there were always to sides or more.

"We will meet again. Think of what I had said. The 'friends' you seek have their own agenda as well. My offer still stands on the marriage. I do not intend to find any attraction of you, but with reputation comes risk. I see why the assassin keeps you. You do hold features of a woman but its the strength and challenge that keeps you wild." Their was a grin on his face that made my stomach turn.

"I will honor the day when I die in battle. Our God's will create a path to which you- daughter of Salty Bones- will spill blood."

Whistling low to command his wolf, the large beast did not cast me one last glance. This strange encounter ended without having to resort to violence and unnecessary blood spill. The pirate never gave me his name nor did I for he knew me as Salty Bones' daughter. What haunted me was that he wanted to die in battle. _Why_?

_Children of Adam and Eve..._

_Find the treasure..._

_Find it!_

_THEY WANT IT!_

_..._

A story about two predator's: one of a hawk with gracious wings and one of wolf with his cunning strategy. Two different worlds watching as creatures that stood on two paws with little hair on their bodies kill each other with strange sticks that shoot thunder and fire.

Dirty paws and blood soaked talons fought each other until they died of exhaustion. That is how the story goes and how it ends.

I had to continue on with my path for I know that I will meet the pirate in battle. As he stated our God's will pave that way. War was only the beginning. I have to spill blood. There is no getting out unharmed.


End file.
